The Problem... And the Solution

My wife's family is always at our place for Thanksgiving, which is a huge blessing in many ways.  We're well over a decade into this routine, which has allowed for a number of traditions to be established over the years.  Several of us punish ourselves on Thanksgiving morning by running the "Turkey Trot." (This year, joined by over 5,000 of our crazy friends and neighbors in a blistering 25 degree heat wave!)  After an hour or so for recovery, at high noon, the "Turkey Bowl" kicks off, which is a once a year neighborhood football game in our local park.  We keep threatening to change the format to full tackle, but with young children, we stuck with "two-handed tap" again this year.  Truth be known, most of us hurt so badly afterwards that it's hard to even imagine tackle--we would probably need to be wheeled to our turkey feast later that afternoon.  The meal, of course, is a highlight of the day, although always taking far longer to prepare than to consume, so a bit of a anti-climax.  For some of us, the meal (and subsequent clean-up) is followed by watching football, playing with the kids, and visiting with the stream of friends and neighbors that drop by through the evening.

For the rest, however, comes the real tradition, the pinnacle, the grand-daddy of the them all... Black Friday preparation.  For years, a half-dozen newspapers papers have been purchased in the early morning hours.  These are casually viewed all day, but by evening, paper is flying everywhere, coupons are being clipped, and preparations are being made for the early morning trek out into the craziness.

That is, until this year.  Now, full disclosure, I already view Black Friday shopping with a significant amount of cynicism, but I recognize that it's a time that members of my family, whom I love dearly, can spend time with one another in the midst of the chaos.  It's not my thing, but then again, they aren't much for joining me for 3 miles of torture every Thanksgiving morning either.  To each his own, I suppose.  But this year, it seems to me that it went a bit too far.  Stores, instead of opening at an insane but respectable 4 AM, determined that it would be best for their holiday sales goals if they would open at 6 PM on Thanksgiving night.  This decision and all of it's ramifications has already been well-tread in the blogosphere, so I don't need to go into lots of detail here.  Suffice it to say this: Our small family tradition of flying papers, coupon cutting, and strategizing was replaced by a mad dash out the door.  Pure logic says that this reality was multiplied by many thousands, as both shoppers but especially store employees cut short their time with family and friends and rushed out the door to feed the consumeristic machine.  There's much I could say about all of that, but none of that is the point of this particular blog.

Here's the point.  All afternoon I found myself repeating this refrain:

"If you leave this house and set one foot in a store tonight, you are part of the problem, not part of the solution."

I'm sure everyone got sick of hearing me say it.  I got sick of hearing me say it.  But the reality is, in the midst of our society gone mad, the only vote that anyone cares about is made with our wallets, and if large numbers of people refuse to leave their family celebrations and head out the door into the mad rush of holiday shopping, stores will no longer be open.  It's simple supply and demand.  However, if, simply because stores are open and there are deals to be had, we all rush out the doors into the madness, the madness will continue.  Each of us has a vote--and by our vote, we are either part of the problem or part of the solution.

What's all of this have to do with Advent?

Despite my love for Advent and fascination with the mystery of the Incarnation, I'm not real big on the Christmas season.  Meaning, of course, all of the mad rush, the shopping, the lust for "more" that's awakened in our hearts by marketers and store owners--things that in no way point us toward the reality of the birth of a baby that would change the universe.  Supposedly in order to put a stop to this madness, every year, there are magnets applied to the rear of cars, signs hung in windows and illuminated in front of businesses, and messages spoken on the airwaves: "Keep Christ in Christmas."

I would like to submit that, unless we are a bit slow and must be reminded ourselves, that's a ridiculous statement to make.

Why?  Certainly someone like me who is longing to live and experience the core message of Christmas can appreciate the idea.  Shouldn't we proclaim it loudly and proudly?

There are two logical problems.  The first one is most evident: Christmas, despite all of the madness and chaos, is inherently about Christ.  We might forget, we might get distracted, and there may be many that see the celebration as one of legend, not a celebration of fact pointing to an actual time in history, but the reality is that Christmas IS about Christ.  No bumper magnet or marketing campaign will change that.  Sure, as we rush from place to place we can remind one another, but Christ cannot be removed from the season that bears His Name and points back to Him.  As another trite slogan proclaims, "He's the reason for the season."

The second problem is far more subtle, and I think far more important.  Henry Blackaby, the pastor and writer, once made this statement:  "If society as a whole seems to be getting darker and darker, it is not the problem of the darkness; the darkness is just acting like its nature.  But it is that the light no longer dispels the darkness... It is time for the light to say, 'if things are darker, the problem is with us'" (Foundation of Revival, pg. 72).  Here's the point: If Christ seems to no longer be the center of the Christmas season, pointing to those who don't desire to pursue Him and yelling at them to keep our priorities straight will do neither us nor them any good.  If Christ seems to be absent from Christmas, the problem is with those who bear His Name, not with society at large.

As one witty pundit said about the battle to remove prayer from the public schools: "As long as there are pop quizzes, there will be prayer in schools."  Whether formal or informal, prayer is the heart response of those who trust in a God who is actively involved in their lives.  We shouldn't be spending time and energy fighting against a system that doesn't desire that involvement, but rather, living out our belief in front of the watching world.

We're either a part of the problem, or we're a part of the solution.

Is the season too chaotic?  Then we personally need to slow down.  Has the season become too materialistic?  Then we personally need to simplify.  Have we wandered too far from the core meaning of the Christmas season?  Then we personally need to renew our devotion and sharpen our focus.  Each one of us is either part of the problem or part of the solution.

The message of the gospel is that Jesus is enough.  In the midst of a world that always clamors for "more" and "better," the incarnation, cross, and empty tomb proclaim in glorious harmony that we've already been given all that we could ever need.  However, if those of us who follow Him live as unsatisfied people in a world full of unsatisfied people, we have no message to tell.  If we ourselves can't break away from the grip of materialism and commercialism to remember the point of it all, why do we expect that the culture as a whole will do it for us?  The darkness will only ever act like the darkness.  If it's too dark in here, the problem isn't with the darkness--the problem is with the light.

So I ask myself: Am I part of the problem, or am I part of the solution?  This season, I've stopped looking for a solution and am seeking to become the solution.

How about you?