So we hung the Christmas lights, and decorated the tree, and bought presents, and sent out cards, and ate the turkey - or goose - or pig, depending on your tradition - and left cookies out for Santa, and listened for the reindeer, and - oh well, now it's all over. We survived another Christmas season.
It's a great bunch of stories mixed up in this Christmas stuff. Santa and Rudolf and the elfs and the tree and the mistletoe and the three wise guys - men - whatever, and the shepherds and donkeys and camels and even some manger and baby and frankincence and stuff. Bunch of stories.
At church we looked at stories today too. "The people worshipped the Lord all the days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders who outlived Joshua, who had seen all the great work that the Lord had done for Israel. [...] that whole generation was gathered to their ancestors, and another generation grew up after them, who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel."
Oh, the stories the elders used to tell around the camp fires! Plagues and the parting of the sea, and a God who goes out camping with a bunch of runaway slaves, and a pillar of fire and a voice of thunder and city walls crumbling at the sound of God's people praising their God... Great stories; and they witnessed them all, they saw it all with their very own eyes.
But then a whole new generation grew up. The postmodern generation. They did not see the miracles their granparents were talking about, they did not witnessed the stories, it was not their thing and, well, he was not their God. Not really. Oh, they knew all about it, but they did not know Him. They had no experience of an adventure with Him. So they went looking for other stories. The book of Judges is the book of ten generations, one after another, leaving The Story in order to try and find their own story. They went looking for their own dream, and every time their dream ended up in nightmare.
I think this is where we are in the church today. So many of us lost touch of the great overarching story; we know it all right, but it's not OURS. It's the story of the book, or the tradition, or the story of our forefathers. It's not our everyday life.
And yet that story is all along waiting to burst into the everyday, into the mundane of our life. You can see it hiding behind the corners, and lurking in the shadows; you can catch a glimpse here and there; but who's paying any attention? It's just that old story, isn't it?
Christianity is sick, but it's not sick because of lack of knowledge or lack of theology or theologians, it's not from lack of resources or buildings or funds or programs. Oh, we have it all wrapped up nice and neat; it's just that, largely, it's not our story. Not really. We know it, but how many of us live it? We believe in miracles - as long as we are not expected to pray for one, or maybe live one. We believe in the supernatural, as long as the supernatural stays well away from the everyday.
Well, it turns out the supernatural is just around the corner. A prayer answered. A life changed. A dream captured. A relationship healed. A heart restored. No, our God hasn't changed - we did. Maybe it's time we wake up?!?
