Tragedy

I recently discovered my passion for splitting logs. It is so much fun. I honestly don't think I've experienced an emotional roller coaster quite like it. There's nothing better than seeing a log split under the power of my swing, aaand nothing more disheartening than watching the axe bounce off the top of top of the log, leaving the piece of wood in tact, and mocking me.

I have this suspicion that while creating their beloved masterpieces many artists had their audinece in mind. I don't think they created their work thinking, "I wonder what they'll like." I think it was probably more like a desperate attempt to get something that was internally consuming them, out. Much like giving birth. Gross.

So here's what I was thinking about during Christmas. I was confronted with the tragedy of Christmas. Seriously. Read this..."Through him all things were made; with out him nothing was made that has been made.....He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not recieve him." John 1:3, 10-11.

There's something terribly wrong with this picture. God, our source, our origin, our purpose comes to us, and what should be the most easily recognizable thing, the most anticipated arrival wasn't recieved at all. Tragedy. I can look in our world though and I can see this. Can't you? Its suprisingly easy to look and see a world that's not the way it was intended to be. It seems somewhat lacking, something is missing, things are damaged. That's a truth most people can agree on whether they believe in God or not.

Is there anything more painful to watch than someone trying to be somebody they're not? Ah, it's almost unbearable! I think thats why I have such a hard time watching Meet the Parents...Focker...you're so akward. I love The Office, but goodness Michael can drive me nuts. Maybe you've been that guy who has butted in on a conversation and pretended to know what they were talking about when you really didn't. My skin is crawling just thinking about it. Is this what we look like? A bunch of people standing around the preverbial water cooler all pretending to know what's going on? There's a good chance.

This is the tragedy of Christmas to me. God, what defines us, presents Himself to us and we don't even recogize Him. Ouch. The pain He must have felt, and still feels. Donald Miller says it like this, "I don't think we can understand the pain a pure love would feel after being betrayed by the focus of its love."

But there is hope to be found in Christmas, one verse down actually. "Yet to all who recieve him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God-children born not of a natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God." John 1:12-13

There is a hope out there. You do have a defenition, an origin, a purpose and He came here to rescue us. Merry Christmas.