SUNDAY SERVICES:

The Symbolic Power of Christmas Attire

Christmas is a season when the world becomes a festive wonderland filled with lights, decorations, and notably, distinctive attire. From Santa hats to Christmas sweaters, the clothing we select during this time carries more than just a fashion statement—it holds deep symbolic significance.

This custom of dressing up acts as a connection between the material and spiritual worlds, mirroring the profound themes of the holiday.

The Wilderness as a Symbol of Transformation

In the rich tapestry of the Christmas story, the wilderness emerges as a wonderful symbol of transformation. Often overlooked, this barren land is where the magic happens.

The wilderness, with its wild landscape and lack of human structures, sets the stage for divine moments and spiritual refreshment. It's in these quiet places that characters in biblical stories experience big changes, opening the door to a new understanding of faith and purpose.

Shall We Shell?

My wife Barb is an avid sheller and gifted shell finder. I'm her assistant. Of course, Sanibel is notorious for its shells, but then, we are not in the shell hot zone of Sanibel. 

We stay at a place called ''Tween Waters. It's between Sanibel and Captiva Islands. 

That's' not to say the shelling there isn't good. It is...just not as good.

 Not to grumble, but we have oodles of glass containers, even a rather large one shaped like a fish, all around our home filled with seashells. We even have framed shells on our walls, along with prints of shells framed on the walls.

We are beach people.  

Today, the last day of our five-day vacation together, we walked and talked about how shells remind us of just how great our Creator is.

My husband and I built our dream home on 10.5 acres in Virginia. We contracted the whole thing ourselves, and Peter himself laid all our heart of pine floors.  I picked out all the colors of paint. The walls were mostly a creamy yellow, which I consider the happiest color.

We planned to raise our family there. We installed a full swing set in the backyard even though our oldest could only use the baby swing. We had plenty of space, extra bedrooms, and scenic views from every window. We joked that this would be the house we would die in. (That's pretty dark humor, I know.)

We lived there for 1.5 years.

Our entire lives turned upside down at that moment. The life we were building in Virginia? God decided to close that door abruptly and without much warning. 

We sold out dream home in a week and moved to Florida. We shoved our furniture in a storage unit and moved into 2 bedrooms in my inlaws' house. Our two kids in one room, Peter and I in another.

The whole thing was shocking, sad, and God-led.

"I’m fine. Thank you.”

Translation: “I do not need any help.”

In the American culture which encourages the value of independence, how reluctant we often are to accept help from others. It feels like a sign of weakness or dependence. 

And yet for Christians, this runs counter to the teachings of Jesus and Paul that we are created for community, with openness, vulnerability, and mutual support. “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15). “Carry each other's burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)

As a pastor, it felt good to help others carry their burdens.  I  wanted to be a strong leader. But seeking help for myself seemed uncomfortable. It was like a sign of weakness.

One way to know if you are following Jesus or not is to check your heart. 

By that I mean, is there a longing there for something more?  

A young husband I shall call John, with a wife and two young sons, was just diagnosed with a very rare form of cancer. It was inoperable, terminal, and he was given just six months at best to live. In spite of growing up in the church where his parents and wife were still active, he became indifferent about his faith in God. That was until he received this diagnosis and John became very angry with Him!

When I was a young mom in my late 20’s, I was a church attender, but not involved in anything but my presence each week.  My son, Ian, was an infant and we frequented the nursery and a church pew. One day, out of the blue, I received a phone call at work. Fr. Andy, our Assistant Priest, wanted to meet me for lunch to discuss a problem. Curiously, I said “Okay.”