Monday, December 17, 2007

From the Editor: The miracle of being fully human

By Jim Nelson

Christmas – That time of year that should be filled with joy and celebration; and above all giving thanks to God for the greatest gift of all.I always feel sorry for those who in the hustle and bustle of buying, wrapping and exchanging presents, in the going to party after party often with too much alcohol, in the over indulgence of food; miss the true meaning of the miracle.How sad it must be for those children who are taught to spend Advent awaiting Santa Claus instead of the coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus. Even though I may currently be an editor/writer and not serving a church, I am still primarily a pastor. And it is my pastoral heart that makes me want to share the real gift of Christmas with everyone I can.

We profess to believe that Jesus was fully human and fully divine. Christmas reminds us of the fully human Jesus who came to earth and walked among us. Who emptied himself and became just like you and me.As Christians we have the privilege of worshiping a God who understands because he has been there. God chose to come to earth as a vulnerable baby, totally dependent on others to care for him. He cried when he was hungry, and had to wait for someone to feed him. He shivered when it was cold, and depended on someone else to warm him. As he grew, he passed through the awkwardness of adolescence, and the fickleness of childhood friendships. He sweated when he was hot, his nose ran when he had a cold, he bruised when he fell, and bled when he was cut.He had to deal with the temptations of materialism, power and glory; the frustration of not being able to make even his disciples fully understand his teachings; and the humiliation of living in a land occupied by a foreign invader with military installations and soldiers throughout.

Toward the end of his life, he felt failure when many turned and followed him no more (John 6:66). He suffered the betrayal of a trusted friend. His heart must have broken when his closest friend denied even knowing him. And, it comforts me to think that at times, being as isolated as the rest of us are from God, he too may have had a moment or two of doubt. It is easy to get wrapped up in the fully divine side of Jesus, but the miracle of Christmas is that it reminds us of the fully human side. Unlike other religions, we have a God who understands because he suffered just like the rest of us. What pain can we feel, what experience can we have that he did not also have? When we feel lost, alone, abandoned, betrayed, or just plain depressed; we can go to Jesus for comfort because he can relate not in some divine, all-understanding, all-knowing kind of way, but in a personal, I’ve-been-there kind of way.

In the United States we are truly blessed. Most of us did not start out in a manger, nor did we have to flee persecution. Most of us won’t end up nailed to a cross, our backs raw and bleeding from the torture of the lash. Unfortunately there are still parts of the world where people do have similar beginnings and similar endings. Because we are so blessed, we need to take extra time at Christmas to be thankful that God cared enough to come to earth as a baby, and to walk among us to show that he does understand how we feel. Merry Christmas.

Guest Columnist: I was homeless and you gave me no shelter

By Andy Peabody

Sitting down, Stephanie, our housing director, slid an all-too-familiar piece of paper towards me. Immediately I knew what was happening in the ministry’s emergency night shelter. The first time was finally here; the moment I’d been dreading for months. “They came from Cherokee County looking for a place in the shelter,” Stephanie added.Looking away from the unsigned document, Stephanie asked: “Now, as I understand it, if they feel they cannot honestly sign this piece of paper stating they are United States citizens or legal permanent residents 18 years of age or older, we cannot provide them with emergency shelter even for one night, even if we have open beds.”

My head filled with emotions: values and rational processes all clamoring for my attention. Could I retreat from our position that whether or not we agree with this new law, the state of Georgia - and Cobb County - have told us we have to do this? Was I absolutely sure the shelter received the requisite county, state, or federal monies to make it subject to this new process? Might we offer the two men (who had already confided their undocumented status) the gift of hospitality and “sanctuary” in the sanctuary of the former church that now serves as our ministry’s emergency shelter? Was I prepared for the consequences of saying, “No, this is wrong and I choose not to do this – we will not turn these individuals away from the help we have within our power to extend”?

The document is an affidavit representing Cobb’s efforts to implement SB529, the Georgia Security & Immigration Compliance Act. While I vehemently disapprove of the law and the way my particular community has seen fit to enact its provisions, in that moment, I felt my hands were tied. I looked Stephanie squarely in the eyes and said with as little emotion as possible, “For now, we have to do this. If they can’t honestly answer in the affirmative, we cannot offer them emergency shelter, regardless of the extent of their imminent need.” For a long time after Stephanie left, I felt an absence greater than could be explained by her departure. A coldness had entered the room, one which wrapped itself around my heart. I closed my eyes and reached out for God in prayer, and instead felt a distinct and palpable absence of God’s presence. Then it hit me – in turning away two strangers in a strange land, I had turned aside Christ himself from the doors to which he had come seeking assistance. The longer I sat in solitude, the more convinced I became that I had done the wrong thing – whatever the law might say. I felt I had stepped from the light into shadow, and that to re-emerge into the light I would have to speak out for those who’d had no advocate to stand up for them when they came to our doors seeking shelter and hospitality.

So I am speaking out – not as the representative of MUST Ministries, nor of the North Georgia Annual Conference – but as a man who is deeply, deeply troubled by how far astray we seem to have wandered with SB529. Some, in good conscience, will disagree with me – so be it. I know and respect many who do. But I hope those who are similarly concerned will join me in speaking out, ardently and consistently, against policies that force us to choose between hospitality to fellow humans in need and obedience to the laws of our land.
Martin Marty, the eminent theologian and columnist for The Christian Century, reminded us at a conference in Atlanta recently - we all know what xenophobia is, but have we forgotten about xenophilia, love of the stranger, and hospitality? At times, we all must choose whom to follow; now is such a time. The need is literally knocking on our doors.

Andy Peabody is a probationary clergy member of the North Georgia Annual Conference of the UMC serving MUST Ministries in Marietta, Ga.

Aging Well: Christmas: A Story Told Through Older Adults and Neighborhood Angels

By Robert Beckum

When Luke wrote the first story of Christmas, he deliberately told the story of God’s redeeming love through older adults and angels. Those advanced in age like Zechariah and Elizabeth or Simeon and Anna embodied the hopes, dreams and fears of all humanity. Angels proclaimed God’s response to humanity’s deepest hopes and greatest fears in the birth of Jesus. According to Luke, only two groups seemed to understand the significance of what God was doing that first Christmas—-angels and older adults. In my life journey, most of the angels (God’s messengers) I have known have been older adults. Chief among those angels was Mrs. Coulter.

Dora Louise Coulter did special things for all the children in the neighborhood where I grew up. She delighted in our presence. She asked about our hopes and dreams. Most importantly, she always listened to what we had to say as if what we were saying was the most important thing in the world. When we were with Miss Dora Louise, we not only felt special—-we were special, and we knew it! At least we knew we were special to her. She made the most wonderful gift baskets for all the children in the neighborhood at every holiday—-every holiday except Christmas. Accustomed to being on the receiving end of her generosity, our faces showed disappointment with the lack of Christmas goodie baskets.“Christmas is different,” she explained, “Christmas is not a time to focus on what we want or what we hope to get, but it is a time to give thanks for all God has already given us in priceless gift of his son.” She continued to say, “Christmas is not in the glitz or the glitter, it is in God’s gift.” Finally she said, “One day you boys will know and understand.” To little boys hoping for toys and candy, her explanation had little appeal. We all agreed she was being a scrooge. Still we wondered, “Why only at Christmas?” She is so generous the rest of the year. Little did we know she was trying to give us so much more than a goodie basket.

Only as adults did we learn it was on Christmas Eve many years before when Miss Dora Louise learned that her youngest son, Billy, had been killed by a Japanese sniper’s bullet. Every Christmas since, she avoided the tinsel and seasonal hullabaloo. Instead, she spent her time quietly giving thanks to God for the gift of His son—-and remembering her son as she lavished her love and attention on us. She was not a scrooge but as close to an angel as any of us little boys were privileged to know. Every Christmas, it is this older adult who reminds me not to focus on what I am “wanting” or “getting” but on giving thanks to God for the priceless gift of His Son that I have already been given and asking, “Where and to whom is God calling me to be an angelic messenger by sharing my love, my time and my attention?”

Rev. Robert Beckum is Vice President of Church Relations and Development Magnolia Manor.