Why I'm really okay with Christmas before Thanksgiving

"Can't we just get through Thanksgiving first?"

Oh, if I had a turkey leg for every time I've spoken those words through the years! But something different has been gnawing at me lately. It started last year when I blared this in my house all through the month of July.

Yes. For real. I was really just being silly at first, but then I started wrapping my brain (or maybe it was my heart) around God dwelling among us. Something different happened when I took the Story of Christmas out of the context of the frenzied, holiday hubbub. GOD with us? God WITH us? God with US??? Oh, Emmanuel! Yes! You ARE with us! And so I celebrated the Joy to the World with the Angels We Have Heard on High, beholding the hallowed manger scene. At the pool.

And then this spring (and again this summer) I read this book.

Find it here

Eucharisteo. Does that make you think of Eucharist? Ever wonder why it's called that? 

"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them..." (Luke 22:19) He gave thanks. The Greek word is eucharisteo. In breaking the bread, in facing the sacrifice for our salvation, He gave thanks. Can I not also? Can I not "give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thess. 5:18)? 

Can I make it a lifestyle? Can I daily...no, moment by moment...recognize His blessings that He has poured all over me? Can I be aware enough to count, to give thanks, eucharisteo, one thousand of His gifts that He longs for me to enjoy? Things like:

23. Beautiful clouds announcing the arrival of a new day

152. Jacob after communion: "I want to do it again." Ah, me, too, Little Man. Me, too.

275. Pastor Mike and his heart for Jesus

357. Recognition of my weakness knowing that He is strong in my weakness

I'm making my way to writing down one thousand and in the process the expression of thanksgiving is becoming the habit of thanksliving. 

So this year, rather than "getting through Thanksgiving" before I celebrate Christmas, I desire to not only celebrate Emmanuel at the feast of blessing, but to bring Thanksgiving right to the foot of the manger. And to see the breaking of the bread and the cross and triumph at Easter on the table of grace and in the shadow of the Star that shown over the stable. Because all of it is God pursuing us, reconciling us to Himself, and I don't want to miss it. Perhaps Thanksgiving and Christmas need not be so compartmentalized. Regardless of what retail shelves tell us.

So I'll change out decorations and sing joyful songs and contemplate the gifts I have already been given and share the ones that will bless others. Before the fourth Thursday in November. And long after.

Rich.

This statement from my professor pretty much rocked my world today. "Do I need a PhD to exegete 'Go, sell all your possessions and give to the poor?' No, I don't. It's not that I don't understand it, it's that I'm choosing to be disobedient."

Yeah, take that pill and swallow it. Please don't tell me that that scripture really applies to me.

But then you slap on a "season" of thanksgiving (why isn't it a lifestyle again?) and turn smack dab into a season of let's-get-more (which is really just ingratitude - ahem, opposite of thanksgiving - wrapped up in pretty paper with a high price tag and an air of entitlement), and maybe I'm not exempt.

Maybe we're rich.

Maybe we're young and immature and don't really know what it means to follow Jesus.

Maybe we're rulers of our own little world with all our cool stuff and yummy food and cozy homes and we like it that way.

Maybe...we're rich, young rulers.

Usually I hear the explanation of that little encounter in the Bible as really just Jesus' way of telling us that "whatever it is that you love more than Me" is what needs to go. Whatever has its grip on you. Well, my phone has a grip on me. My laundry (how many days' worth of clothes do I really need?) has a grip on me. My basement is embarrassing so I prefer to ignore that one. My kids' activities, while all completely justifiable, dominate my calendar. Christmas "giving" has a grip on me.

Which leads me to the Mother of the Year acceptance speech I've been working on for a few weeks now: "I don't want to get my kids a stinking thing for Christmas. I don't want to spend money I don't have on stuff we don't need that will take up time we say is more valuable. I don't want to step on one more Lego in the dark. I don't want to hear one more whine about not getting to play 'just til I finish this level' and I don't want to find a home for more crap. I don't want to add to the sense of entitlement that our culture has proclaimed every day of their life and that I have - yes, I have - welcomed into my home with open arms under the guise of birthday parties, TV propaganda, and 'I just want to see their face light up.' And I don't want to endorse a game of Keeping Up With the Joneses. And I, quite frankly, don't want to help anybody else play that game either."

Yeah. I'm still gnawing on that last one myself. Somehow feeding others the same materialistic, stuff-will-make-you-happy philosophy is starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth. See, I find it interesting that Jesus says to "Go sell" and then "give to the poor." So, if you've sold your stuff, what's left to give? Some translations actually come right out and tell you. Money. Give your money to the poor. But we don't do that, because they might spend it on stuff they don't need.

Like we do.

Dang it, I'm mad! I'm mad that I can't seem to really do it. I can justify it that I give in a lot of ways. But I don't give it all.

But I cry as I fill my big ol' garden tub with gallons and gallons of refreshing, clean water because my Honduran momma friends have to carry their dirty, dangerous water in 5 gallon buckets on their heads so they can cook, clean, and drink it. And I want to relax in mine.

And then I get all rational and realize that my not filling my bathtub doesn't get clean water to Escuapa. So, there. I give myself a pass.

And then I read stuff like this:

"The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry man; the coat hanging unused in your closet belongs to the man who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the man who has no shoes; the money which you put in the bank belongs to the poor. You do wrong to everyone you could help, but fail to help." St. Basil the Great

Dang it. Why am I afraid to be so radically different? Why do I think it will somehow be a bad thing for my family? Why do I think I have to convince my family? What is my role as an individual - not just wife and mom? What am I called to model to my kids? Why hasn't anybody that calls me friend said, "Jenn, I think Jesus means what He says." Why does everybody explain it away?

Well, not everybody. I know a few who are living rich, fulfilling lives because they gave it all away and discovered why Jesus ever spoke it in the first place.

And yet, I'm still choosing to be disobedient. Oh, sure. I can say that that verse is for "those" particular people. And you can, too. It's not a blanket command that Jesus expects every Christian to follow. Nah. But if I feel any kind of relief at the thought that it doesn't apply to me, then it probably does.