A while ago, in a group of friends, we somehow wandered onto the topic of everyone's personal movie kryptonite--you know, that movie that you've seen a million times, but you just can't help watching again anyway? Even if it's already halfway over, or you were already on your way to bed, or you only turned on the TV to watch something else? I know there are some movies like this that have their own almost cult following, like The Shawshank Redemption. Or, in my dad's case, The Outlaw Josie Wales. Everyone in the circle was sharing their own favorite. Someone turned and asked me, "So Lisa, what's the movie you always watch whenever it's on?" I answered immediately, without thinking, "That's easy. Talladega Nights." There was a silence. Glances exchanged. Then someone said, "Really??"
So maybe the Ballad of Ricky Bobby doesn't hold the same appeal for everyone as it does for me. But at least at Christmas time, I ask you all to indulge me. I won't try to write about it again. But I will link to what I wrote about it last year. Give Ricky Bobby a chance, folks--that's all I ask.
I Like to Think of Jesus
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Monday, December 15, 2014
So This Is Christmas
Today at my workplace, we celebrated the first day of our Christmas event. Our store will be open every day this week as a Christmas shop, with games, toys, decorations, gift wrap, and many other holiday items for customers, all at greatly reduced prices; so many fun things will happen, from candy cane hunts to visits from Santa. We've been so excited for the last few weeks, planning it. Hours of time and care have gone into every detail, working hard to create an event, an environment, where families can come and shop for Christmas in a way that is affordable, enjoyable, and uplifting. It's a highly concentrated example of the effort and sacrifice our staff makes every day, the mission of working alongside families to offer support and encouragement while preserving dignity and empowerment.
The doors opened this morning, a waiting crowd of customers came in, Christmas toys were purchased, candy canes were found, cookies were eaten, and all went as planned. Well, almost all. Also, in the festive chaos, with so many people moving through the building, someone went into a staff member's private office, dug into her purse, and stole her wallet. Removed all the cash, and gift cards--tokens of love from her family and friends--and tossed the rest of her possessions like so much junk in our parking lot.
Of course, there were other offenses also, such as switching price tags and swiping items from the donation area, all less egregious, less personal. Less of a violation. But honestly, even this event isn't that unusual or unexpected in our line of work. As our executive director said to me when my new truck got keyed on my third day of working here, "Welcome to ministry at Salt & Light!" But there is something about its happening as a part of the Christmas festivities that makes it seem so much more of an affront. In a season that is intended to be about peace and goodwill, when it seems the whole world makes an extra effort to be kind and generous, it's a rude reminder of reality when we encounter the always-present (but temporarily forgotten) existence of greed, cruelty, or any other form of common human evil.
However, this is the nature of our work--laboring with our greatest strength, to the best of our ability, to make a better way for many others, some of whom will steal from us in a heartbeat as soon as our back is turned. And somehow, I find it particularly appropriate that it happened today, during our fledgling celebration of Christmas. Because, as I thought about it during the day, what better picture of the Christmas story? It seemed to everyone who heard the story today such a shame, such a pity. We all understood intuitively why it seemed so wrong that someone would choose to repay that way to one who had given so much for their benefit. And yet, that is the story of Christmas. While we find it so hard to continue to give selflessly in love to those who may repay with evil, Christmas is the story of the ultimate selfless gift, given to make a better way for so many, some of whom would participate in his actual killing, while all of us, through our very brokenness, shared in the responsibility for making it necessary. It's writ large the same love, sacrifice, pain, and betrayal as the drama that played out on the small stage of my workplace today. And while for those of us who minister here, events like the one of today are unexpected, the fate of that undeserved gift of long ago was always known. Christmas is the story of the God who gave, knowing fully how he would be repaid.
Such is grace. There is nothing more free, and nothing more costly. May we continue to find the strength to give it in the same measure we have received.
The doors opened this morning, a waiting crowd of customers came in, Christmas toys were purchased, candy canes were found, cookies were eaten, and all went as planned. Well, almost all. Also, in the festive chaos, with so many people moving through the building, someone went into a staff member's private office, dug into her purse, and stole her wallet. Removed all the cash, and gift cards--tokens of love from her family and friends--and tossed the rest of her possessions like so much junk in our parking lot.
Of course, there were other offenses also, such as switching price tags and swiping items from the donation area, all less egregious, less personal. Less of a violation. But honestly, even this event isn't that unusual or unexpected in our line of work. As our executive director said to me when my new truck got keyed on my third day of working here, "Welcome to ministry at Salt & Light!" But there is something about its happening as a part of the Christmas festivities that makes it seem so much more of an affront. In a season that is intended to be about peace and goodwill, when it seems the whole world makes an extra effort to be kind and generous, it's a rude reminder of reality when we encounter the always-present (but temporarily forgotten) existence of greed, cruelty, or any other form of common human evil.
However, this is the nature of our work--laboring with our greatest strength, to the best of our ability, to make a better way for many others, some of whom will steal from us in a heartbeat as soon as our back is turned. And somehow, I find it particularly appropriate that it happened today, during our fledgling celebration of Christmas. Because, as I thought about it during the day, what better picture of the Christmas story? It seemed to everyone who heard the story today such a shame, such a pity. We all understood intuitively why it seemed so wrong that someone would choose to repay that way to one who had given so much for their benefit. And yet, that is the story of Christmas. While we find it so hard to continue to give selflessly in love to those who may repay with evil, Christmas is the story of the ultimate selfless gift, given to make a better way for so many, some of whom would participate in his actual killing, while all of us, through our very brokenness, shared in the responsibility for making it necessary. It's writ large the same love, sacrifice, pain, and betrayal as the drama that played out on the small stage of my workplace today. And while for those of us who minister here, events like the one of today are unexpected, the fate of that undeserved gift of long ago was always known. Christmas is the story of the God who gave, knowing fully how he would be repaid.
Such is grace. There is nothing more free, and nothing more costly. May we continue to find the strength to give it in the same measure we have received.
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