Getting the Giving

You've all surely heard the familiar holiday cliche:

"Its better to give than to receive."

I'm not a big fan of cliches because they have a tendency to generalize. For instance, I can think of an exception to this cliche: Go Fish. You know...the card game. Its much better to receive the cards you need than to give them away. A more Christmas-appropriate example: No one playing the Dirty Santa or White Elephant gift exchange game wants to keep the socks. They would much rather give them to the dude with the $15 gift card to Blockbuster so they would get the gift card that broke the $10 limit.

But you can ask my mom: When it comes to Christmas, I am much more passionate about what I give to others than what I ask for myself. I try to be thoughtful and specific with the gifts I give. When my mom asked me for what I wanted this Christmas I told her (verbatim): "One of those ceramic spoon-holder thingies you set in the middle of the stove so that when you're cooking you have a place to rest your spoons."

The reason I am more passionate about the giving is because I get more satisfaction from the joy of the recipient than I get from the joy of receiving. On Christmas morning, the novelty of receiving for me ends when the cleaning up of the piles of wrapping paper begins. But the joy of giving carries over every time I see someone using or enjoying what I gave them. And almost invariably I feel that no matter the gift I gave, I receive more joy from the giving than the recipient gets from the gift.

I wonder if God is the same way.

We spend the Christmas season praising God for the gift of Himself in the form of a babe in a manger. We marvel at the paradox of God being a helpless baby born among the animals. We reflect on that birth's fulfillment of generations of prophecy and the promise of the prophecy yet to be fulfilled:

But he was pierced for our transgressions,

he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.

He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before her shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.

By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
And who can speak of his descendants?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was stricken.

He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
nor was any deceit in his mouth.

Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.

After the suffering of his soul,
he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
and he will bear their iniquities. - Isaiah 53:5, 7-11

As we are filled with the joy of His gifts during this season, I wonder if He is not even more happy to have given. After all, since before there was time He had been planning this gift. Dropping hints about it. Twiddling His thumbs in anticipation. He knew this would be the perfect gift.

Our smiles fade as Christmas Day passes further and further into the past.

I'm willing to bet that His smile has not and will not ever fade.

Take the time this Christmas season to get God's giving. To imagine our own joy concerning His gift multiplied infinitely and not even coming close to the joy God experiences in the giving.

Cast Iron Christmas

I love to cook.

I don't do it nearly enough, but I do love it.

I love to cook with a lot of heat. I love to sear and stir fry. I like to hear the sizzle and smell the great things that happen as the deep flavors are drawn out.

I think my favorite cooking is kind of like taking the grilling mentality and bringing it indoors to the stovetop for the winter.

I don't really like recipes. I'd much rather cook on the fly.

I refuse to ever willingly make a casserole (but I will definitely eat them).

To me, improvisation is where it's at. And there is one cooking medium that I love more than any other.

Cast iron. Accept no substitutes.

Man, what a thing a cast iron skillet really is. I have watched 3 generations of family cook in cast iron, and for us southerners, there really isn't anything else that comes close.

Think about it: you can fry bacon, or make cornbread, or do a million other tasks in between, right in the same pan. Cultures throughout the world have known the utility of cast iron cooking for thousands of years.

The best part of all? Cast iron only gets better with time, if you use it regularly. It grows darker, and smoother, and even more non-stick as time goes by. Carbon builds up on it, and it just becomes an aged and seasoned thing of beauty.

Every time I take my favorite cast iron out of the cabinet, it's like meeting an old friend once again. Treated right, that skillet will outlast me. No matter what technology comes...I feel sure I'll be cooking in that same cast iron, God willing, in 2059.

I just got a brand new cast iron grill pan, and when Holly gave it to me, she realized the serious nature of the gift.

This pan is a new, but long-term member of the family, and it will take time to build the relationship. But oh, the stories of steaks and fish and chicken and pork chops we will one day be able to tell.

Cast iron reminds me of Christmas. Really, it does.

When I was a child, the story of the baby Jesus was shiny and new.

I can remember those childhood Christmas pageants in those tiny country churches. We stood still as statues. Clad in our fathers' bathrobes, we were 6 year old, twentieth century, American shepherds who had never seen a single sheep.

I think I can remember hearing Silent Night for the first time...and I know I can remember the first time that I really listened to the words and took in the beauty of the gentle melody.

Little did I know then that the song...and much more, the story of Jesus' birth was already a perfectly seasoned old skillet.

Even though to me the story was shiny and new, 2,000 years of carbon had been deposited upon that nativity scene, and it had only grown more powerful and beautiful with time.

My first Christmases found me more concerned with Santa Claus than baby Jesus...but it's the baby who has the staying power. Eventually, the old man in red becomes a cartoon and novelty. He burns up easily in the scorching heat that the tests of time bring to us all.

But the star, the shepherd, the manger...those people and places only deepen with complexity as life unfolds.

In the decades (really?) since my childhood, I like to think that I've become a little more seasoned myself. But I know that I have many miles left to travel.

And that's ok.

We need to let the fact that we're not finished be ok for all of us, and we don't give ourselves that freedom in grace often enough.

No great skillet that I know of ever got seasoned overnight.

And though the grace and forgiveness of God is instant...discipleship takes a lifetime.

It's wonderful to know that we are neither what we were...nor what we will become.

No matter what the future holds, some things won't change. God willing, I'll be reading this very same Christmas story come December of 2059. What great tales of Christmas grace we'll be able to tell by then!

Luke 2:7-14 (KJV)

⁷And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. ⁸And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. ¹¹For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ¹²And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. ¹³And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ¹⁴Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Grace & Peace,

Adam

Salvation Army Santas

Its that time of year again. You know the time well: The time when you cant walk into most stores without hearing that oh-so-familiar ring-aling of the Salvation Army Santas.

Ive had some beef with those people over the years. They make me feel bad about my personal financial decision to never carry cash. They plant themselves at the entrance AND exit of every store I frequent and their bell lays on the guilt. And if that isnt bad enough, they wish me "Merry Christmas" as I both enter and exit the store.

But the Salvation Army Santas hold a very special place in my heart. I know of very few people who are on par with or more humble than the SASs. They stand for hours in public often dressed in full Santa garb and ring their bell for a good cause. They greet all who pass by. I admittedly have done zero research on the SASs, but Im guessing they are volunteer. Even if they are not, no amount of money could motivate them to be so engaging to those who pass. I mean, look at the people who are paid to hold signs advertising out of business sales or new homes near the roads. Very rarely will you find one who does not sequester him- or herself off from the passers-by with an mp3 player or, sometimes, a book.

The SASs have huge hearts. It is love that drives them to ring that bell without ceasing. As Ive matured and come to focus not on their annoyance but on their purpose, I have come to respect the SASs. Beyond that, I have come to engage them. I dont always have cash, but I do have a firm handshake and words of thanks.

And, as a side note, I have discovered a newfound respect for the SASs. Not that I ever considered it, but now I know better than to mess with them:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeY83qBMSps&annotation_id=annotation_261210&feature=iv