Switch
Seats: Feeling run down? Try a new power source.
Every
year around this time, I have a familiar experience. I'm out shopping,
and I'll go through the checkout line, and pay for my stuff. When
the cashier hands me back the change, they'll say "Happy holidays,"
or perhaps even "Merry Christmas."

I
realize that this comment is not always motivated by the cashier's
genuine interest in whether or not I enjoy my holiday. I'm aware
that they may be saying this because they've been told to. I can
envision the memo from K mart corporate headquarters directing cashiers
when to switch from "Have a nice day" to "Happy Holidays," on the
assumption that this will somehow help cement a lasting bond between
the store and the customer that won't evaporate when a Wal-Mart
opens across the street.

I'm
aware of all that, and suspicious of the whole business. But at
least once every year, I have a cashier who looks me in the eye
and says "Merry Christmas," and really means it. And it changes
my whole day.

There
really is something genuine to this whole idea of Christmas cheer.
As Dec. 25th draws near, people warm up just a bit. If you're out
and around on Christmas Eve, you'll notice that people are friendlier
than on any other day of the year.

Folks
warm up when they are mindful of the Christ child's birth, and make
an extra effort to practice the virtues the angels sing of - "peace
on earth, goodwill towards men."

But
consider this - why do we notice this at Christmas? Why does this
surge in warmheartedness stand out? I think it's because, despite
our best intentions, good will towards men can easily become a seasonal
event rather than a standing policy.

When
Christ entered our world, he didn't come to brighten our Decembers,
but to transform our lives. It can be hard work to practice good
will towards one another. But John the Baptist's message was that
as we prepare for Christ to come into our lives, we can change our
ways.

The
Gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry provide the blueprint for loving
our neighbor in a busy and complicated neighborhood. Christ made
a point of seeking out the broken and disenfranchised people of
his day - the lepers, prostitutes and tax collectors - and he saw
the value in each one of them. And in so doing, He helped them recognize
the value in themselves.

This
Christmas season, let us recognize that just as faith is a decision,
good will towards people is a series of decisions that work themselves
out not in temporary holiday cheer, but in the details of everyday
life.
There's
a company that makes T-shirts with spiritual themes. One of them
shows an airplane being flown by a frantic pilot. The shirt says
"If God is your co-pilot, switch seats."

That's
a statement that's simple, but sort of sums up our struggle. We
often talk about how faith is hard. But I believe a certain amount
of faith is really not difficult at all. The Gallup Organization
of Princeton conduct surveys that consistently report that about
94 percent of Americans believe in God. It's not hard to acknowledge
God. And I don't think it's hard for me to make God my co-pilot.

It's
easy. Like this:
"God,
you keep an eye on the horizon and the dials and gauges while I
fly the plane. But you be ready in case a storm comes up or we lose
an engine or the wing falls off, because then I'm gonna need you
to save the day. Of course, when we have blue skies, I'll just take
over again."
That's
not hard. What's hard is to relinquish the wheel. At the Annunciation,
Mary gives us the blueprint for a different kind of faith - the
hard kind.

I'm
sure Mary may have had many ideas and expectations about what her
life would be like. We all do. We knew she was expecting to marry
Joseph. And then this angel shows up with a message from God that
lays out a whole different plan for her future.

To
say that this was going to complicate her life is putting it lightly.
While Scripture talked a lot about the coming of the Messiah, it
didn't include instructions for being the Messiah's mom.

Mary
is the ultimate example of a life yielded to God's purpose. Mary
puts God in the driver's seat. But it's one thing to see that kind
of faith in a Biblical figure who lived 2,000 years ago. It's another
thing to live out that faith today, and walk in submission to God.

How
do we do it? The answer begins in Mary's story, which begins an
act of grace that has the power to transform our lives. We need
to remember that Jesus didn't come just to accept the shepherds'
worship or the wise men's gifts. We need to see the cross as well
as the manger.

In
John 11, Christ sums up the issue as he speaks to Martha and asks
her a question :
"I
am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live,
even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never
die. Do you believe this?"
We
all want to surrender our lives, to let go and let God, to turn
over the wheel. It is in answering Christ's question that we find
the confidence to do this. Some folks resist this question. There
are any number of reasons why. But no one yet has made an effective
argument that eternal life is a bad idea ("I'd much prefer death
and decay!") I've talked with people about this, and some say "you
know, with you Christian folks, it's always this focus on salvation.
Can't I just be spiritual?"

All
I know is that for a while, I tried "just being spiritual." And
what I was really doing was trying to hold onto the wheel. To really
let go of something, you need to grab hold of something else. And
to help us let go of the worries of our world, God has given us
the ultimate something else.

There
are times when we wonder whether we matter to God, whether he really
knows who we are, or cares. God responds to our doubt and our feelings
of inadequacy by saying this: "Come live with me at my house. I
have prepared a place for you! It's a great house, too. And I'm
not talking about a two-week lease - it's forever! And, not only
that, you can invite all your friends, too!"

"I
am the resurrection and the life. Do you believe this?"
Believe
it. Switch seats. Follow Mary's example, and make God the pilot
of your life. Let go of the wheel, and grab hold of Christmas with
all your strength.