Dear Jimmy,
At last the house is decorated for Christmas and as I have a few minutes, I’ll jot you a line or two to let you know that your Uncle Orley and I are still in the land of the living. It seems that each year we have a little less energy, so we put up fewer decorations than the year before. In a few more years we’ll make Charlie Brown’s tree look like an extravagance.
Jim White
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Still, we’re not lackin’ in the Christmas spirit department. Not by a long shot. Around Bluebell Baptist the Christmas spirit is like a freight train. You either get on board or you get run over. By the time we reach Christmas Eve none of us is less than utterly exhausted. There’s the deacons’ dinner, the choir party, the Brotherhood breakfast — to which wives are invited in December — Orley’s Sunday school class social, my Sunday school class social and various other get-togethers. Now mind you, most of these are attended by the same people, but tradition demands that we continue them just exactly as we have done since the church age began.
Well, for the first year since he’s been our pastor, Brother Bobby and his dear family are spending Christmas with their families. They saved their vacation to take all at once before and after Christmas and last Sunday we had a guest preacher.
I’ve heard tell of pastors who made sure anybody who filled the pulpit in their absence was the sorriest speaker they could find ‘cause they didn’t want the substitute to make them look bad. In fact, I’ve wondered sometimes if there is a list of sorry substitute preachers that circulates among pastors. But Brother Bobby has always asked good preachers to fill in.
Anyhow, as I said, our first fill-in was last Sunday and … well, let’s just say I had trouble followin’ him. Brother Bobby usually preaches about 30 minutes and has about three points. We once had a revival preacher who holds the record at Bluebell Baptist — 53 points in a week’s time. But this was the first sermon I remember hearin’ that seemed to have no point at all. Bless his heart.
Now, if I seem a mite critical don’t be put off. Keep readin’. Bear in mind that by this time I’m reachin’ the point of exhaustion where if I was a car my “check engine” light would be on full time. This preacher just told stories about lookin’ for some character called Doxology. He was in line at the grocery store and asked if anybody had seen him but nobody had and several other places, too. And finally he gave up tryin’ to find him and then Doxology came to him.
Now I know we sing the Doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,” but beyond that I was lost in the woods. I had no earthly idea what the man was talkin’ about.
But the doggonedest thing happened this week. Orley was bringin’ in a sack full of groceries from the truck and I was a-holdin’ the door open for him. It was after dark and we hadn’t left the porch light on, and there’s no dark like country dark. But the stars were big and bright. One especially. And as I looked at it I thought of that Bethlehem star and without knowin’ I was thinkin’ them, the words came to me, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.” And I commenced to cryin’ right there with such a thanksgivin’ in my heart and such a peace fillin’ me that I hardly even heard Orley grumblin’ that I ought to turn on the light so he didn’t break his neck stumblin’ over somethin’ with his hands full in the dark.
Well, naturally I switched on the light right away, but I had to smile to myself that just like the preacher said, Doxology found me when I wasn’t even lookin’. This same kind of thing happened a couple more times, but not as forceful as that first time. But they put me in mind to think on what a marvelous thing the peace of Christ is.
We can plumb exhaust ourselves bein’ good Christians and get ourselves so wrapped around the axle with church socials that we miss out on all the good things that should cause us to sing out praises to God. Or something happens and we get madder than a wet hornet about this or that, but there, above it all, is Bethlehem’s star sayin’ “I’m here. I haven’t forgotten you after all.” And in spite of it all inside a voice sings out, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.”
I’ve been thinkin’ this week a lot about Christmas bein’ the time God came to us — you know, “God became flesh and dwelt among us.” Well, it seems like God is still comin’ to us. Right in the big middle of our messes God reveals himself, Doxology shows up, praise happens and peace settles in no matter what else is goin’ on. So Christmas is not just something that happened a long time ago, it is something that keeps on happening now. Why, what do you know, here’s Doxology now.
As you have gathered, I’ve had to revise my opinion of that sermon last week. It wasn’t the preacher that was sorry; it was the attitude of the hearer. And I am sorry. For being too quick to judge and for not givin’ the Lord a chance to speak to me in church. I’m just glad we left the porch light off ‘cause sometimes it has to get dark before we can see the light.
Your uncle and I wish you the merriest Christmas yet and wonder when you are commin’ to see us.
With much love,
Aunt Ida
Jim White ([email protected]) is editor of the Religious Herald.