Merry Christmas! This is a special season of expectation, reflection, and hope. I think it's this season of expectation that makes me reflect upon those expectations we have that are unmet.

We all have them - when things don't go the way we think they should. When we think we know someone and then they surprise us by doing something that seems out of character (or, what we think their character would be).

Jesus was not what people expected the Messiah to be. The people were expecting their savior to come boldly, in the clouds, on a white horse, ready to trample the oppressive political regime of the day to the ground. Instead, their savior came in tiny, needy form. A bundle of squalling humanity, born in the poorest conditions and unremarkable in every way except for the fact that he was the Son of God. How unexpected!

And then, at a critical moment when all seemed lost, when the end had surely come for this tiny Jewish movement, and yet another Messiah-figure had been killed at the hands of the Romans, this completely unexpected Messiah did something else unexpected - instead of succumbing to death, he conquered it. He was resurrected!

The people expected something big and grand, but they got something tiny and weak - an infant, born in a stable. And later, after his death, when the people expected weakness, what they got was strength and victory over death.

How often do we miss out on what God is doing because we are looking for something we don't expect?

Spreading Love into Hearts full of Hate.

The past few days have been horrifying. A bombing and shooting rampage in Oslo, three separate mass shootings in Seattle over personal disputes, a road-rage incident that ended up with an innocent bystander dead... all horrific in their own way and all examples of the marriage between hate and aggression. It's been overwhelming to me - to see so many lives lost, tragically and senselessly. I keep asking the question - what makes people think it's okay to pull out a gun when they are angry? What is different now than it was twenty years ago? Have we somehow taught this generation that the best way to solve a problem is to bully your way through it?

Then I am gently reminded that this is not such a new problem. From the earliest days of humanity, we have a consciousness of our darker side - of the evil that lives inside of each and every one of us, that sometimes feels like it's going to escape. In the early pages of Genesis, we have two brothers - Cain and Abel. One is a shepherd, one a farmer - and both offer sacrifices from their labors to the God that walked with their parents in the Garden of Eden. Abel's is accepted. Cain's is not. The anger and frustration boil over, and Cain lures  his brother to the field, and kills him. Hatred and aggression, married together into tragedy.

Whether or not you accept the literal and historical truth of this sacred story, it is clear that the earliest storytellers were concerned with this dark side of humanity. They recognized that we are all capable of something equally horrific, and sometimes at the smallest trigger will release the bullet.

But there is good news, too. Yes, like Cain we all must suffer the consequences of our actions - we cannot take someone's life (literally or figuratively) without dire consequences. Cain was sent away from God, out of the land destined to wander the earth. We also suffer consequences. But we also have the hope of redemption. Unlike Cain, WE don't have to stay wandering in the wilderness. WE are not destined to being sent away from God's presence for eternity. In fact, we have Jesus Christ who makes it possible for us to return, fall on our knees before God, and say we're sorry - and feel God's welcome embrace. God welcomes us home, dresses us in glorious new clothes, and throws a party.

It is no less heartbreaking to hear stories of senseless, violent death. It still makes no sense to me how someone can be so callous toward human life, can allow their anger to take over so much of who they are that they kill. In fact, it's a little more desperate to think that this is human condition, not cultural conditioning. But I find hope in the promise that God's Kingdom will someday rule over all the earth - the yeast is still rising, the seed is still sprouting. And until that day, I will try to spread love into hearts full of hate.

A Gift Worthy of a King

Throughout Advent, two lines of a song echoed in my ears. If the song they came from was playing, those two would stand out - as if they were played louder than the rest of the music. Silence found those two phrases echoing through my head, a far away drumbeat sending a message across the miles.

I played my drum for Him, pa rum pa pum pum.
I played my best for Him, pa rum pa pum pum.

In my journey of relationship with Jesus, there is so much focus on the friendship quality of that relationship that I forget about the Kingly quality of my Savior. I forget that he introduced us to a whole new type of Kingdom. The people of Israel were not expecting a Messiah who would save them from themselves - they were expecting a Savior who would save them from Rome. The Kingdom they expected was an earthly kingdom to overtake their oppressors and set up Israel as a political might in its own right. But Messiah they got was anything but expected. The Kingdom that was established that day of Jesus' birth, the Kingdom that continues to grow in strength and power, just as a pinch of yeast grows the bread dough from the inside-out - it is a whole different kind of Kingdom than what we experience in our past, or present governmental systems.

So I forget. I don't focus on the honor deserved by that little baby who turned into a Rabbi, a healer, a miracle-worker, a forgiver of sins. I think of Jesus as a grown-up, itinerant preacher who talked about the Kingdom of God with stories of servants and masters, of soil, seeds, and birds. He used the things people knew about to talk about things people couldn't understand. And I forget that he was the King proclaimed by angels and stars - introduced first to unworthy shepherds and areligious foreign astrologers. A king worthy of the best gifts.

The magi brought gold, frankincense and myrrh to this new king. It was a common practice in the Ancient Near East (ANE) for foreign rulers to present gifts to a newborn king of their neighboring lands. So it's not all that strange that these star-watchers from the east (probably Babylon, maybe Persia) brought along such gifts when they came to see the new king. What was unusual was that instead of meeting him in the capital city in a palace, lying in a gilt cradle, surrounded by nursemaids and servants - they found him in a no-name town, in a house just like every other house, cradled in his mother's arms. How they must have questioned the star as they approached the door to that home. Really? A king? Here? But on they strode, confident that the heavens would not steer them wrong. There was nothing "normal" about this king from the start.

But still I forget: my Jesus is a King.

As those two lines from The Little Drummer Boy drummed themselves into my soul over Advent, I asked myself this question: "Am I offering my best to the king? Or am I offering what is left after all the other needs around me are met?" Like the little drummer boy, I don't have a gift to give that is suitable for a King. I daily try to offer what I have, but I forget that He deserves my best.

Today I offer my best to the King.