My Friend, December 25 and The Evergreen Tree

I have a lot of facts about the alleged birthday of Jesus and the oh so famous Evergreen tree.
I also have an overwhelming concern for one of our fellowship ladies who just found out she may not be one of us cancer survivors who is just too danged mean and stubborn to die. The breast cancer has spread to her lungs and she must start chemo again for an indefinite period. Considering her situation almost paralyzes me with fatigue. But this is not about me. This is about her and Christmas traditions and evergreen trees and Jesus.
How can I incorporate these diverse issues into one story? Let me try and we will see where it leads us.
In the first 300 years of the Christian Church birth dates were not given or celebrated. The Death Day was much more important as that was the day one entered into the heavenly kingdom.
Jesus' birth date was not historically recorded, but we know exactly when he entered Jerusalem as the ruling Messiah. We also know his death date to the hour. Have we confused what is important to God with our traditions? Will our death date be the day He has our birthday party ready with cake, friends, party hats,blowers,presents? Maybe ponies?
There have been a wide variety of hypotheses on Christ's birth date ranging from November through May. The Eastern and Armenian Church picked January 6. The Western Church favored by Constantine went with December 25. So as with St. Nicholas,A.K.A. Santa Claus, it seems the interpretation and legends of these traditions are arbitrary. I choose, hmmm, don't hate me, no traditional western Christmas. Can you see me dodging your rosy cheeked boos and bah humbugs?
I, being a really lazy human bean, hate the whole decorating frenzy one must enter upon to be a non grinchy,all American or western Christian. It is a massive redecorating blitz that leaves me with a dark cloud of dread hanging over my head. Beginning mid November, I can barely enjoy my young turkey filled Thanksgiving Day for dreading Christmas decorating season. My visions are not of sugar plums, but of undecorating the house in January surrounded by masses of dusty boxes covered in 17 year old packing tape hanging in ragged strips.
The green tree is the central figure around which all things jolly and seasonal revolve in our traditions.
I find it ironic that Moslems have banned our Christmas celebrations in their Kingdom since these traditions evolved from their own cousins ,the Egyptians and Iranians. The birthday of Mithras was celebrated on December 25 by Roman soldiers who learned this worship in Iran. The Egyptians used green date palm branches in their houses to symbolize something or the other that has to do with green stuff. The Druids in the British Isles also used green plants or trees for winter solstice rituals and to keep witches away from their homes. The Roman celebration of Saturnalia on December 25 is the closest to our traditions. Saturnalia was the god of agriculture, and again with the green stuff,plants,trees. They also used lights,gifts, coins, and pastries for happiness. Pecan and pumpkin pie make me happy!!!! Drinking and drunkenness were highly involved in the celebration of Saturnalia.
The German pagans from where we derive the actual evergreen, coniferous tree worshipped special trees and sacrificed men to them every few years.
Evidently there was a man called St. Boniface who got really mad at the pagans for what was going on around these trees,and cut down one of the 'big boys',Thor's Oak. Then when a new fir sprang up, he declared it a sign from Jesus that," He is God." What? Was the New and Old Testament not enough of a 'sign'? Then there is something about Martin Luther and a pretty little tree he kidnapped from its happy home in a beautiful snow covered forest.
There were lights involved of course.
The tree thing as we would recognize it came from Germany. The Royals in Austria,Germany, and then Britain instituted the custom in their palaces. Then the peasants followed suit,and the custom drifted through Hessian and German immigrants to America.
In all of this we do manage to cram Jesus in with a church program,a nativity scene,Salvation Army bell ringers,family reunions with lots of goodwill and good food.
And so where does my sick friend whose life is hanging in the balance fit into this satirical and informative story on the origins of our Christmas traditions?
She fits in because every decoration, every lit tree, Saint Nicholas, heart felt gift, fruit cake or pecan pie she enjoys in her home or a friend's is a living,loving demonstration of God's sweet and tender care for her. It is a pitiful little gift from our breaking hearts to hers. It is an odour of sweet smelling savor to her from the hands and kitchens of friends and family members that prepare her a holiday to treasure. Hopefully she will see and taste a little heaven on earth. Love can do that even in dark places.
And of course there is Light involved,the True Light.
I like the little poem" What can I give Him poor as I am? What can I give Him to do my part? What can I give Him? .................Give Him my heart."
In spite of the questionable origins of our traditions ,we can transform them to give our sister Christ's heart and ours.

Sandy Claws is coming to your house [Muuhaha]

I am sorry,but there is an oh so sensible reason why little children are afraid of Santa Claus. Plop me down on a strange old man's lap who has long white hair and a long white beard and believe you me I would throw down and have the closest viable weapon at his throat. Who has a long white beard and long white hair in the 21st century? Some White Supremacist fresh off the mountain looking to buy supplies for the suspicious black sack over his shoulder? It is just weird to expect us to accept as socially normal that a person small or large should sit on some strange old man's lap. Who the heck invented this celebration of Jesus' birth? Why do we perpetuate it,other than it is fun to see the babies cry. It is a bit reminiscent of the Baal worshipers placing their children in the red hot arms of the idol as an offering to their god.
Do I come across as jaded? Grinchy?
Oh yeah, I know the history of Saint Nicholas of Potara,Turkey. He was good, gave to the poor, became a bishop who was imprisoned by Diocletian in the 3rd century,was at the council of Nicaea. Yada yada yada. He died December 6 and we celebrate his Sainthood by giving stuff. Hello? Knock knock. You in there Jesus? Not so much so it steps on Saint Nicholas' trip? Then the New York Dutch tarted Saint Nicholas or Sinte Klaas up even more,and so Voila! We have the present day Sandy Claws. Hey, I can tart him up too. Its up for grabs the way I see it.

Kitty Ranchin'

I would like to tell you about my wild Arab kitty ranch.
Last year a momma cat and her two half grown kittens showed up in my back yard.
We named the kittens Sister and Brother. They were inseparable. Brother an Sister kept each other warm. Brother seemed to know he was bigger and stronger and needed to stay near his delicate sister. I fixed them beds with blankets on the chairs,and eventually they got tame enough to come inside and eat. They were still skiddish, but every now and then we could pet them. Sister was small,vulnerable, beautiful,and very cautious. She was a calico with beautiful dark eyeliner and a trusting ,gentle look in her eyes. Brother was ginger and white with long-hair. He was bold and would laze around like he was to the manor born. They had the best manners of any persons I have ever known, which I am sure came from their humble,well mannered calico mother.
After I went to the U.S.A. for 7 months sister disappeared. I saw brother once or twice after I returned and then he too disappeared. Momma cat still comes everyday for her treat,and has not lost her beautifully gentle manner. I think she has another caretaker feeding her because she has a dashing green plaid collar that matches her eyes. Mind you there is no veterinary tag as these cats are much too wild to catch.
After my return from the the U.S.A. another little cat family appeared in my backyard. At first we were afraid of 'little momma' as she seemed aggressive and attacked us through the glass door. As I started putting food out for her and her half grown family of three she became quite affectionate. She is a little' scary 'affectionate as I think someone has probably mistreated her. She rubs my legs with frenzied fervor that is reminiscent of a fanatical religious person. Sometimes she gets so excited she bites my house shoes or the back of my fuzzy yellow house coat when I walk away from her. She comes into the house like she has a gold plated invitation. Her 3 kittens are untouchably wild. I have named the smallest kitten, Inkblot. He is black and white like his mother ,but with black inky splotches on his face. Phantom has one grey side of her face and one white like 'the phantom' in Phantom of the Opera. The other kitten I have named Scarecrow because he has a triangle of gray colour around his nose like the scarecrow in Wizard of Oz. Phantom and Scarecrow are long-haired grey and white kittens. Inkblot is typically Arab shorthair like his mother. There are in addition to 'the family' 2 male cats that come around at night to eat,but have remained outside the circle. One is a ginger short-hair with a muscular neck and battle wounds on his face, and one is a ginger and white long hair. I don't think it is 'Brother.' He is too large.
'The Family' come every night to eat. I have laid cushions and blankets on four chairs for the little family. They love their little beds in the evenings, but I have no idea where they reside during the day. Little Momma and the original Momma cat come during the day and seem to have a bit of a Mexican standoff going on. Momma cat being older,wiser,and larger wins the skirmishes, but Little Momma comes running into the house after a defeat and takes sanctuary behind my legs. Sometimes the whole family comes in the house at dusk and act like kids let loose at Disney land for the first time. They run and pounce and hide in joyous excitement over and under every item in the living/dining room.
Today Brother was sited early in the mists of the cool Arab morning, but then disappeared. We will never know what happened to Sister of the gentle trusting eyes.
When I go to the USA for Christmas I will leave plenty of cat food with my Indonesian neighbor and hope she feeds them every night as I do.
I have a daughter I will call moonbeam[because she is so hard to get a hold of] ,who loves the cats and would take over the ranching business if she could, but alas she is on a completely different continent. Moonbeam has kitty ranchin' in her blood.
What will happen to my little herd when I leave Arabia forever? It troubles me. I will pray for them and maybe get The Paws group to catch them and put them up for awhile with medical treatments, but that is temporary. They will eventually have to let them loose,then who is going to feed my little herd,put blankies out, freshen their water, let them in the house for their Disney-like cat adventures?
Being a kitty rancher is a great responsibility.

Good Natured Satirist or Dog the Bounty Hunter

I have two humors in me. One is to minimize the offenses I encounter in the world with wit,satire,humour. The other is to fully confront the offenses with a not so humorous diatribe.
Which is preferable? Which is most needful and most honest? My family think I tend to be a "Negative Nancy or Debbie Downer." They are right,and yet I feel the straight forward diatribe is honest and needful. For my own peace and well being though, I think I should be humorously satirical,because I get into a 'slough of despond' after the diatribe has been unleashed. As I said in an earlier blog I am quite suited to be a "Dog the Bounty Hunter" ,but somehow I don't think stirring anger and indignation in my own soul or that of my readers is going to be beneficial.
Yet, I say," we have to stand for what is right"."That is non-negotiable. And what is 'right' is in The Bible."
The Bible wants righteousness, unshakable moral fiber,and OK, peace,love,and kindness. [yawn] Where my withered little spirit gets confused is in the balance of the two humors. Kindness,goodness,peace on one hand and righteous indignation on the other. I will tend to take the evil down with righteous indignation, and if it leads to bludgeoning you over the head with The Bible a little, so be it. I think that is the bounty hunter mentality. When I unchain that spirit it gets strong. That is why I think I will keep 'The Dog' chained.
The humourous,edgy satirist is better for my spiritual welfare and yours, though sometimes'The Dog" just gets too provoked and breaks its tether.
I need Jesus to pet me ,tame me,send me to obediance school. I can learn to catch the frisbee, sit,stay, roll over,sniff out contraband,find people buried in avalanches of snow,and all with a friendly,contolled likability. And then you may call me,Polly Positive, Beatrice Boring, Sappy Sally. Some of us were just born to be guard dogs.

Beware all who enter here

Hello friends: BEWARE all ye who enter here.
I am tired today,and a little empty and bummed. That is not true. I am irritated and angry. My stomach is bloated like I am 6 months pregnant, my new haircut is ridiculous and unflattering, and I had to eat lunch alone at a restaurant after Bible study.
I am sick to death of know it all ,arrogant Christians. They speak with such authority and absolute assurance that they are right and you aren't. Assuring you that what they just pontificated upon is absolutely correct. Then when you look up what you thought was their error and find you were right, they are already gone on their self-righteous ,self deluded way,congratulating themselves on their superior knowledge and understanding of the scriptures. Frustratingly you are the only one that knows they are misinformed as you look at the facts before you.
They speak of reverence and holy awe with such pride and religiosity. A little humility like the dirty old publican might be more in order. And then there are those that harshly judge an other's circumstance without scriptural backup ? With their oh so self-confident, yet un- scriptural, concept that' God works in mysterious ways'. Meaning ,we don't care what has befallen whether bad, perverted, or evil, God mysteriously did it. When you protest that the Bible does not say God works that way as revealed in the Old and New Testaments,they still throw down the 'God is too mysterious,His ways too hidden for you to understand card.' The only thing hidden and occult in New Testament dispensation is Satan and his occult ,demonic activities,and who the anti-Christ is and when he is going to appear.[ Well, OK, the time of the rapture is hidden.] So I am supposed to agree with some self-deluded,religious person's view of evil circumstances? Maybe in some weird parallel universe. I think I'll read my Bible and find out what It says, thank-you very much.
Give me a big fat sloppy and irreverent break. The traditionalists/religious set don't like drums, in worship songs,it isn't reverent. PUHLEASE. Were their drums,cymbals in the Psalms? They want to legislate dress to their denominational or traditional concept of proper attire. Baggy shorts, shirts on the outside, sandals are not considered reverent or respectful. Blue jeans offend God's holiness. COME ON. No wonder kids don't want to be Christians or attend church. Man-made traditions and concepts of pleasing God are imposed as if they were ordained by God. Moral dress is of course a requirement in old and new testaments, but, blue jeans and baggy shorts,sandals ,Hawaiian flowered shirts are as moral as any lace collared dress,or pants suit , suit or tie.
Get a scriptural clue old people. God says He knew us while we were yet in our sin. He accepts the sinner who comes in whatever stink he has wrapped himself in. Bring them in from the fields of sin. Don't hinder the little ones who want eternal life because their clothes are not your traditional clothing or their music is not your traditional religious music. Tens of thousands of young people are coming into churches to hear the gospel every weekend in what some of you would consider irreverent clothing, listening to irreverent music at an inappropriate time. Let's take Saturday evening. They must not have really worshipped because it was not Sunday morning. Never mind that many protestant Christians in Arab countries have to worship on Friday morning. We must not be worshipping reverently or appropriately either.
Once the lost come in and are saved The Holy Spirit will clean up their dress,their music. But that does not mean they are going to wear heels and dresses,pants suits ,coats and ties and listen to hymns played like funeral dirges.
You know that many of our traditional hymns are tunes that were taken from the wharfs and taverns of seafaring men. So stop with the arrogant judgements on this generation's music and clothes. Ye whited sepulchres!
I told you to Beware didn't I?
Sorry.

The Watchman

Isaiah 24,25. David Wilkerson at Times Square Church, NYC.,August 07.

In one hour everything will change.

God moves when the cup of violence overflows. The increasing flood of child pedophilia, kidnapping, torture, murder, abortion, genocide,violence,death in schools, militant homosexuality will draw the wrath and fire of God.

The upheaval will change the Church,but the church will sing in the fire.

The prosperity doctrine and hyper-faith people will be reeling. The focus of our lives will change from a materialistic walk to a spiritual walk. Students held captive in godless universities by godless professors will be set free and empowered by The Lord.

Comfort each other in the church. Live or die we are the Lord's,and we are not to fear death.

Saints will be quickened and sing and strengthen each other.

Saints you must sing about how Great Our God is in your own personal trials. Practice faith, hope, praise so you are strengthened when the fire falls. We will recover our hope.

We anticipate Christ's imminent return for the church,the wiping out of His enemies, and His return to Israel and setting up of the Millennial reign on earth.

Even as You have said, Come quickly and soon, Lord Jesus.

Hey hey ya'll.
Oh boy. Went to a 'christian writers' meeting tonight. I am way out of my league. I don't think christian satire, or off the wall humour[not dirty] by a non serious peanut like myself is going to find shelter in the christian writer's community. A good portion of the group are PHD. professors of English and are like light years ahead of me academically and intellectually. [I had to look alliteration up when I got home. ] At least I know how to use a dictionary. Actually I am honored to be among them and will learn a lot if I can keep my mouth shut and try not to be 'The Entertainer'. See, narcissism keeps crowding its way back onto center stage.
I think a couple of the ladies need someone to love them, accept them and simply enjoy their company. I can do that. I will begin to add them into my circle of concern in prayer. Their needs and burdens will come to be a bit of my responsibility. Peanut accepts the Mission, Lord. I will speak of what YOU have done and do at every opportunity as well. Is it a deal? Can I be nicely satirical,self-deprecatingly humurous ,and a wee bit loud? I won't be rude. Or is that already rude? I just hate boring,and taking oneself too seriously,but will try hard not to overlay that onto someone else. Slap a little bit of that around on myself is ok though,right?
Alrighty then, Lord,
Love Ya'.
I will just be me and let them be them and YOU be the great and mighty YOU.