A White Christmas

There was no white Christmas this year in Lagrange, Indiana. As a matter of fact, we have had very little snow so far this winter. It's actually kind of disappointing. My family and I usually hope for at least one "snow-in" each year, and so far this year we've only had about three or four inches.

There's been talk among the people with whom I used to rub elbows that Christ was not actually born during this time of year. Some say that He was born during October or even April. I really don't know that much about it. However, I am glad that we celebrate His birth during this time of year.

Having a white Christmas is, for those of us who believe in Jesus, a great reminder of His work. He came to Earth as a baby, grew up, gave a great example of how to live...but this does not encompass His full mission. His mission was death...and in dying, to bring life to all who would accept Him.

Having a white Christmas is a reminder of what that death has accomplished for us. That death was the full and complete payment for our sins. Having taken our sins upon Himself, we have been made righteous in the sight of God--there is no more sin, no more stain, no more imperfection--we have been made fully and completely white in His sight.

Seeing the snow fall on everything, covering all the dirty browns and grays of the season, brings joy during the Christmas season. And for those of us who have accepted this payment, this atonement, the snow covering all things dirty carries a weightier connotation--it reminds us of Him making us completely white, His grace falling on everything so gently, so beautifully, eliminating all vestiges of brown and gray. Surely this another expression of His great love for us.

Perhaps you didn't have a white Christmas this year either. But in another very real sense, you can have a white Christmas. All you have to do is believe in that sacrifice that Christ made. And your life also can be made white as snow. His grace will cover all things brown and gray in your life, fully and completely, in much the same way a snowstorm covers everything in white.



"After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands...." ~ Rev. 7:9

~

BS

Lighten Up!

Today I went to work (I'm a high school math teacher) and found my entire room had been TP'd.

A few weeks ago my homeroom class took it upon themselves to decorate the room for Christmas. I must say, the lights (some blinking, some not), the fake tree (with purple decorations and no star), and the "Happy Holidays" light are...oh should we say...a little on the tacky side. But it is festive nonetheless. And oh yeah, let's not forget the "Santa's Workshop" sign outside the door.

Anyway, I thought the TP job was performed by some nefarious foes, seeking to dampen our Christmas spirit with the dangling litter of toilet paper. After all, our "Santa's Workshop" sign has already been stolen (and returned) twice. And yes, they not only had spread toilet paper all around the room, and even around some of my calculators, but they also had hung the TP from the ceiling tiles--it was, needless to say, a mess; a mess that I did not want to clean up before school.

I got pretty angry about the whole thing. I found out about 20 minutes later that the plot had actually been carried out by members of my own chess club. My own custodian let them in, and a few of my colleagues had actually seen them the day prior doing the deed. As I thought about the whole thing throughout the day, I realized that I had overreacted. It was done in good humor. I should have left the mess (or should I say, the teens' morbid act of appreciation and kindness) for all to see throughout the day.

Then something else happened at lunch. I stepped into the men's room for a few moments, leaving my lunch on the table by the coffee pot. When I returned, I found my lunch to be missing. I actually thought, "Great...here I have another opportunity to overreact. Don't blow it this time." Sure enough, I blew it.

As it turns out, one of the other teachers hid it from me. As I went into another part of the office to locate it, it "mysteriously" reappeared where I had lost it originally. The other teacher thought it was funny; I didn't. After all, I only had 10 minutes left to scarf my lunch.

A couple of people got the best of me today. In our house when I was young we used to have a saying: "If you can't take it, don't dish it out." I learned that I need to lighten up sometimes!