a beacon of hope

It does not happen often but once in awhile when the sun comes up over Mt. Baker...the shadow of the mountain separates the sunrise and we have a beacon of sorts displayed across the morning sky.

This is Christmas...that piercing of history, that separation of time, that beacon of hope in every sunrise.

I wish Christmas was more simple and less complicated. I know that much of it has to do with how we approach this season, but one can't help but hear the GREAT sucking noise of the retail giant as it pulls us in as much as possible into excess. Thanksgivings leanings into gluttony is outpaced by Christmas' headlong tumble into greed and avarice. We are bent to excess this nature of ours. The mockery of what was to what we have done can't be more obvious in the displays of the simple nativity scene...for pete's sake...mine is white porcelain and I am sure would have been quite expensive if I had not rescued it from the garbage.

Every year I wrestle with this monster...I like that we as a culture celebrate, I hate that we can't do it restrained. I hate the frenetic pace, the running around looking for peace and joy...when those two are never found but always follow. I love the lights in this dark season and the relentless music pulsating in every store and radio station...but I think we have become louder and harried and restless and worried. I don't mind even that we have stolen from pagan celebrations and redeemed it somehow...I do mind when we think Christmas in its present form is somehow a holy holiday.

In its simplicity it is about hope. Hope that this baby being born, like every baby born in its uncomplicated smallness will grow up into something wonderful. This baby born 2000 years ago in his uncomplicated and simple smallness grew up and continues to pierce every morning with hope. This beacon ... this hope...I will follow in this season of excess, finding it piercing even the darkness of this holiday.