Description aside it stained my hand deep blue.  This is no natural substance.  This CAN’T be good for the environment.  (Yes, what you flush ends up in the bow river eventually.)

Want a clean toilet without harsh chemicals?  I’ve heard baking soda and vinegar work wonders. (I think they even produce a bubbly cleaning action so you can “see it work” as the toilet cleaner my mom used to use claims is quite exciting.)

I sleep with a night guard in my teeth.  I use polident to clean it each night.  I huck a polident pill in the toilet in the toilet every now and then and it seems to keep things well in hand.

Speaking of hands, here’s a picture of  mine.

We all already know what NOT to look at.  (See no evil, hear no evil, etc. )But what do we put our focus on?  Is it enough to know what NOT to do? 

I think not. 

Thinking about what NOT to do still means you are focusing on that very thing you are trying to avoid.  Instead we need a mechanism by which we can focus on anything else – and by extension – what is good to focus on.

Good focus produces ideas, and ultimatley adventure.

Bad focus can produce a myriad problems such as fear, stress, inactivity and at its logical end: boredom!

I am processing a unique problem.  I’ve just spent three days at a conference where every guest speaker was -concept by concept- telling me the thoughts that have been in my mind and heart for the last three years.

So, how did they know what I was thinking?

Doesn’t this mean I’m not quite as clever as I supposed and, in fact, my creative ideas are just run of the mill notions?

Are we all tapping into the same spirit of things?  Riding the same wave, as it were; which doesn’t make it any less impressive?

What do I do now? I’m not alone! How do I connect with them again? Do I need to?

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So here are my cards.  I’ll show you my hand.

I believe with all my heart that there is great cause for hope in our world.  Not because of anything I”ve seen on Discovery Channel though.

My hope is rooted in the fact (yes, fact.) that Jesus is not like santa clause or the easter bunny.  He is real.  He was born in a human shell, but he was all God inside.  He came, died, and was resurrected.

That’s my hope.  That Jesus beat death.  He beat discouragement, he beat despair, -ultimately he beat evil.

Evil. That stuff that wrecks our homes, families, culture, and our lives.  Evil.  That stuff that powers our bad actions.  (They are not all accidents. If you were to be honest with me you would admit their is evil in the world and in US.)

I’m not sure you need some sort of proof of Jesus.  I don’t have any math for you or advanced scientific evidence.  If you do need proof I offer you this suggestion.  If you can find the evil in you (which is there – like it or not.) You can find the proof of Jesus, too. If you can find the part of  you that hurts deep down… that’s the same spot.

You see, Jesus says he stands at the door of your heart and knocks. Our heart can be sick (evil inside) and it can hurt. So if you can find those spots you can find your heart. Once you find your heart you can listen for Jesus.  You can even try talking to Him.

You likely have nothing to lose.  If you’re honest enough to find those spots you may be humble enough to talk to Jesus.

Maybe not mathematical or scientific, but odds are you’re not a mathematician or scientist anyways. It can be more substantial evidence than the above anyways.

go ahead and try it.

Need a place to start?  Try reading the book of John: http://read.ly/John1.1.NIV

OK.  That’s it.   I wrote this entire 12 day series just for you.  You’re probably the only one reading this

Godspeed.

sb

Well.. that’s it. 

See you tomorrow.

sb

Yes, it is the day before the day before Christmas.  I spent the day trying to convert me Mudder-in-laws tractor from a front end loader to a snow blower.  Six manuals and as many hours later I succeeded with the accompanying sense of fulfillment that can only be experienced by someone who can truly say “Vini Vidi Vici.”

Somewhere in the distance carols blare from Daffle’s (That’s my Fawder-in-law) computer speakers.

I have a love hate relationship with carols.  Every now and then they succeed in raising my spirit.  Other times they make me think of nothing more than the buying extravaganza that I am conditioned to believe I MUST be a part of.  (Did you know that last year some $26B (that’s $26,000,000,000) worth of gift cards were exchanged?) Sometimes I sing soulful versions of I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.  It’s funny, actually, as I’d be every bit as pleased with a brown Christmas. Keep in mind dead grass needn’t  be removed from the driveway with a tractor that requires a face lift from front end loader to snow blower.

Daffle just told Tash the true origin of Christmas trees.  Turns out it’s a phallic symbol associated with Saturnalia – an ancient Roman festival.  As the story goes Pope Pius III couldn’t stamp out the festival so he decided it would be a good idea to sort of mash Christmas into it.  It’s a sort of high-level case of,  “If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em.” Well sort of.  We’ve been carrying on with the tradition ever since.  Oh well, the tree Tash is working on is quite nice anyways.

Yup, like it or not folks, there are very few people, who know about these things, -if any- who think Jesus was born on or near December 25th.  Some say that Jesus was actually born about 2 B.C in the spring time.  (This would, of course, mean that Jesus was born “Before Christ;” which has more than a few theological implications we shan’t discuss here.  The numbers work well with Him being born year zero, so let’s just role with it.)

Actually, the whole idea of celebrating Jesus’ birth doesn’t come up very often in the Bible.  The three wise guys, some shepherds and likely the little tike’s parents are portrayed as rejoicing, but most other folks didn’t seem to make much of a fuss. Well, there was a major exception.  One of the big wheels of the day ordered all the males under 2 killed to try to eliminate baby Jesus.  I suppose that should be omen enough to anyone that the poor kid was not going to have an average life.

More often than not the Bible DOES talk about celebrating his death. No kidding.

I suppose to be super accurate you would have to say the Bible talks about celebrating His resurrection.  The point is you can’t be resurrected unless you die and thus His death gets celebrated a lot. It’s sort of a two-for-one deal and you can’t have one without the other.

Why celebrate the death and resurrection?  Well, it’s a bit like when your Uncle Marty fought cancer and won.  Or the way you broke your arm last ski season, but you’re ready to tackle the slopes again.   When people overcome adversity we celebrate.  Considering death normally wins you’d have to say His victory was an upset of titanic proportions.  (Even more staggering than the Giants defeating the “un-defeatable” Patriots to win the Super Bowl.)

The other reason it’s worth celebrating is that the Bible seems to imply (READ: state directly) that we can live with the same overcoming power in our lives.  I don’t think that means we’ll never die, but it does mean we can be raised from the dead.  I suppose this means we can walk free of depression, discouragement, despair, loneliness, and when it’s all over we can be raised to life (presumably) in heaven.

If you want to read the Christmas story as told in the Bible you can go here:  http://read.ly/Luke1.27.NIV

For the death and resurrection this is your spot:  http://read.ly/Luke22.1.MSG

Merry Christmas, and don’t let this get you down.  It’s good to celebrate Jesus.

sb

PS.  Some say candy canes are actually “J’s” for Jesus.  This article says it’s bunk, but I’m sure, by now, we have to know that you can’t believe everything we read on the internet.

We’re driving me Mudder-In-Law’s newish station wagon and I’m plenty pleased about that.  The head lights work in this car; which is a site more (no pun intended) than I can say about the headlights on our car.  Plus, it has an aux port that I can plug my ipod into.  Yes!  I won’t be forced to listen to music on our journey which will inevitably be much longer than usual.  As I think I mentioned there is more ice than asphalt on the road today.

Our mission is to get to the family acreage just west of Edmonton where our holidays can materialize in a peaceful and pastoral setting that most would be jealous of.  Everyone else seems to be pretty relaxed apart from the occasional grumbling from the back seat.  Me Fawder-in-Law is showing pretty good restraint, but despite his best intentions he is, in fact, a back seat driver.

We pull into the drive way and are delighted to discover that the lock to the gate is frozen solid.  A few minutes later David, (aka Daffle. aka me Fawder-in-law) gets it working.

It is 11:30pm and we’re all in the house.  We left Calgary at 4:30.  Albeit we stopped in Red Deer for a sit down meal, but it’s still a long trip no matter how you dice it.

My big insight from the trip?  Well it’s this:  people who are not feeling relaxed like to tell other people to relax. I reminds me of that amazing bit of wisdom hidden in the lines by Mr. Shakespeare:  “Methinks thou doth protest too much.” (This is a misquote, by the way, but I really don’t care – there’s truth in it whether or not Shakespeare said it.  More on the misquote here.) I take this bastardized quote to mean: we complain about stuff we are guilty of.

Christmas Tip:  Study the people you are with. What do they complain about? Are they guilty of the same?  If they ask you to relax you can probably assume they don’t feel relaxed. Use this to your mutual benefit and figure out how to make them feel calm.

Christmas Tip: There is another powerful tool for understanding what people are REALLY thinking about themselves.  COMPLIMENTS. There is an ancient proverb that reads: The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but man is tested by the praise he receives.  Yup, it’s easy.  Compliment people and see how they respond.  You can learn an awful lot about them.  You can even try it on yourself.  How do you react when receiving a compliment?

What if someone told you: “That was a great present you picked for me.”  ?   Would you say in your heart, “Oh, I’m really glad you liked it.”  Or would you say, “Oh, it’s not exactly what I wanted to get you!” OR, “If only you knew how much I wish we could get along… this gift is the only way I can show you love.”  (Or a mix of all.)  I’m not sure what you’ll discover, but you’ll learn something about yourselves and others.

We’re all squared away in our rooms now.  I’m writing because I’m really desperate to finish my 12 days in some sort of style and a miss just doesn’t seem like I’d be doing the countdown justice.  That and, well, this is a nice break from driving.  Flexing my creative muscle a bit does wonders for my personality.  Lucky for me, and everyone else, Tash and me Mudder-in-Law forced me to bring a guitar.  I suspect it will bring great peace and harmony to my heart over the holidays and will spare my family me asking them to relax.

I’m mostly done Tash’s shopping (The only person I have to buy for…) but I still have one thing I’d like to get her.

How’s your shopping going?   On holidays yet?

I hope all is well.

sb

(BTW Despite numerous attacks from suitcases and food that managed to launch covert ops from the bags they were hiding in the dog did maintain his spot in the car.)

People have a lot of funny ideas about Christmas. Based on the nativity scenes I’ve seen around I would think most people think when Jesus was born in a manger it was a very nice, clean, hygienic and happy sort of place complete with cattle lowing and baby Jesus awaking to Joseph and Mary discussing how the decorum was really “rather pastoral” and “how quaint it all was.”

This strikes me as amusing.  Let’s get this super clear: Jesus was born in a barn, not a 5 star resort in the back of the hotel that they kept just in case the rest of the rooms were full.  Animals live in barns.  More to the point, animals poop in barns. I’d say that was at least 5 stars off the rating.  Poop is neither hygienic or aesthetically appealing.  It also stinks. As would a barn that was full of said animals and said poop. (Even a really nice one with really nice cows and sheep.)

You can see the movie version of the real manger scene in what I remember to be a less than inspirational movie called “Nativity.”  Idonno. It just seems like too nice of a barn.

Another funny belief that comes out around now is that a fat man climbs into a sleigh that flies solely on the power of reindeer, (and Christmas spirit according to some movies) traverses the earth spreading good cheer, and then goes back to the north poll for another year of watching us.  This man watches you whether you’re awake or sleeping and based on some unknown standard of being good or bad rewards or punishes you for your efforts throughout the year.  I’m not assessing the reality of this situation.  I’m just saying it’s a creepy mascot for the season that, frankly, would not make it into my list of options to make Christmas about something other than Jesus.  (I just can’t get over how creepy it is to suggest this old jolly man is watching me sleep.) I would say the Easter Bunny was a way better addition to the folklore of our holidays.  A bunny that lays chocolate eggs… that’s pretty cool. (And not creepy.)

My final funny belief, for today,  is that we have to reciprocate every kindness shown to us and not show too much kindness unless someone else feels that they have to reciprocate.  This bizarre notion effectively destroys the whole reason behind giving.  If we give expecting something in return or receive feeling like we have to reciprocate we miss it.  Giving should be just that.  A gift.  I should be able to give without wondering if everything is even between us.  I should be able to give without keeping track.  I can’t even say I’m the best at this… only that in an ideal world people wouldn’t keep track of who did what and who owes who what. Somewhere in this riddle of ‘being fair’ and ‘giving’ is what love is I’m pretty sure.

Enjoy your funny beliefs this season.  I know I will.

sb