Christmas

Yesterday evening my sister and I were treated to way over-the-top presents from my brother. He gave us BOTH guitars. Today as I was further considering the reality of what we had received, I was humbled and came to fully realize what we had experienced. The truth is that what we received from my brother is more than just an awesome gift, but it was a glimpse of Christ's love. The idea was thrilling and humbling, and I'm still trying to grasp it. But now I have a great youth group message if I ever need to present one again.

Matt's gifts to us were expensive and a sacrifice. To anyone who has bought a guitar or considered buying a guitar or even seen a guitar, you likely know the truth of that statement. I went online to find the guitar to find suggestions for accessories (strap, case, picks, etc.) and I found the price of the guitars. ONE guitar was more than my parents spent on all three of us kids. Granted, we got smaller gifts from them this year because we took a big vacation for Thanksgiving. Regardless, for my gift--a guitar and a Disney chordbook--he spent over 4 times more than the most I've spent on any one of his presents in the past. And he did that for both of us. We were talking tonight, and he was telling us how he had considered buying himself cross-country skis this winter, but decided to forgo that in order to buy these presents. He sacrificed his own opportunity for leisure and enjoyment to make us happy. And let me tell you, we were THRILLED.

Christ does something similar for us, but at a far greater scale. He sacrifices his godhood to take on humanity, to experience intense physical suffering and death so that instead, we might have life abundantly. His gift to us is the most costly of all time. Literally.

I still can't get over this Christmas gift. What have I done to deserve it? NOTHING. In fact, there is really nothing I could have tried to do so that I could deserve it. My brother knows that I'm not going to be a good guitar player. He knows that I'll mess up OFTEN and for a long time, I'll probably do more things wrong than right. But that didn't change anything for him. He didn't expect me to pick up my guitar and be able to play it perfectly. And the fact that I can't do that doesn't make him regret giving me the gift. But now that I have this gift, I can practice. And practice means discipline and working hard. But that's not a punishment, it's a way to improve. And though I'll never be perfect, I'll never give up. Because giving up is like spitting in his face and saying, "This gift wasn't worth it. Your sacrifice wasn't worth it." And really, does that make any sense at all?

And yet somehow we don't take this attitude in thinking of Christ's gift. Often we don't really grasp that we don't deserve his sacrifice. We may be "good" people, but we can't ever be "good enough" to earn a gift like this. But with Christ's gift--himself for our freedom and happiness--we have responsibilities. We have to have spiritual disciplines. They often aren't fun. They often seem like legalism, or a list of "don'ts." But that's what this gift requires of us, if we are to make use of it. And if we don't make use of it? "I'm done living this life, God. You aren't worth it. Your son's life wasn't worth it." How does that make sense? And yet every day, this is what we're faced with.

Of course, after Christmas comes New Years, when we so often make promises we fully expect to fail at. Here's mine: I want to be as much in awe of Christ and his gift as I am thrilled at my Christmas gift. And every time I touch my guitar, I want it to be in honor of the One whose gift I can hardly even fathom. It's all for Jesus, or its nothing at all.