A few weeks ago, our family spent the evening at the Downtown Jamestown Christmas Celebration. It was picturesque, our Little Town of Jamestown (how still we see thee lie). There’s not too much to Jamestown, though that’s changing rapidly as people move from there to here. The earliest settlers would recognize most of the buildings but not the horseless carriages and neighborhoods of garage-faced homes to store them. They might be surprised that the old Reformed Church is now a funeral home, though it makes some sense in the grand scheme. They’d certainly recognize all the marks of a community Christmas party, though likely taken aback by our weird fascination with ugly Christmas sweaters. Were there Reindeer in a cage filled with straw, as seen on many InstaGram posts that night? Of course. Was there mass-produced Hot Cocoa? By the stainless-steel gallon. Was Santa taking requests from all the good little girls and boys?
Yes, and even some of the not so good ones.

Most delightful was the Christmas carriage drawn by two white horses. We stood in line with our fellow townsfolk and waited for a ride, but alas, the rides had to end before our turn, as it was time for horses and rider to clock out for the night. Was our 6 year old son sad? Sure, and so were the rest of us in line. But who are we to question these beasts of burden with their sly contract negotiation skills? If a horse says “we’re done, where’s my oat bag?” I say hop in the trailer and we’ll get McNuggets on the way back to the barn.

Do horses eat Chicken McNuggets? These are the questions I didn’t even know I had until I started writing.

Life is a series of celebrations and mourning, triumphs and losses. No, we didn’t ride in the carriage, but at least we got to see Santa. At Christmas, we celebrate the incarnation of Christ and gather family around food and gifts. As soon as family gets involved, there’s always a chance of sadness. For some, it’s feeling the loss during the holidays that yes, they’re really gone, and our Christmas won’t be the same this year or ever. Little kids may get a great gift from Aunt Clara, but no doubt she’ll insist on little Miley help find the pictures on her iPhone 7. A double edged sword, the gift and curse of being young. Back when I was young, expertise meant knowing how to program Grandma’s VCR. We used to dole out smart-mouthed sass about how the TV works through magic and computers store files in the sky. Nowadays, that’s what actually happens as data is kept in the cloud, which I barely understand because I am now old — not so old that I can’t find pictures on my iPhone, but certainly of an age where my teenage sons have to explain why certain elements of the internet are funny. I thank them for their patience with me and marvel at the new standards and practices of pop culture.

I understand my dad a little more every day.

Speaking of Bobby D., I’m in the hospital as dad is dealing with what appears to be a nasty flu. Not being able to breathe is scary. It’s not what we planned for our family Christmas gathering this weekend, but at least some of us are together and all are accounted for. Christmas is no time for people to face tough stuff, but, then again, there’s never a good time for bad things. One can’t plan for emergencies.

God isn’t surprised by our emergencies. This truth brings both comfort and confusion. The Divine, who is wisdom, love, and power, is a welcome presence when life throws the unexpected. However — and this is a question that more than a few hesitate to ask — if God knew it was going to happen, why didn’t He stop it? We may not be able to plan for emergencies, but God can… and He could stop them (if he wanted). If you had the power to go back in time and stop the 9/11 attacks, would you? Of course! How could you not?

I suggest that there are two considerations to the question of why a good God allows bad things to happen. First, a good God gives total freedom to us mere humans, risks and all. We can do just about anything we want with usually predictable results. God doesn’t make robots. We are created in His image and are free to choose the wise or the foolish, the light or the dark, and the results of those choices will play out in the world, just as God designed. He rarely bends his rules. If He did, either by drastically switching things around in the laws of physics or forcing our minds, we would no longer have free-will.

However, there are examples in scripture and in the testimonies of many that God does intervene, that God has bent the rules and gotten involved. We usually refer to these moments as a miracle, and we shouldn’t pretend to understand why He does what He does. Remember when you were a kid and your parents said “you’re grumpy, take a nap!” You screamed NOOOO and threw play dough at the wall, making their point self-evident. To your limited perspective, a nap made absolutely no sense. What a waste! And yet, it’s exactly what you needed at the moment. Meanwhile your parents are scraping blue, red, and orange off the walls of the dining room (but leaving the white because it blends in). When you woke up in a puddle of your drool and groggily walked out to the kitchen, they still loved you and offered to feed you McNuggets while you thought nothing of your earlier tantrum. That’s grace.

I believe God does intervene, but I can’t prove it. I have faith that He does, and faith that He can, so I ask. As you should, too. Asking for help is humiliating, and humility is the key ingredient for discipleship stew. There is no following Jesus without genuine humility — at least not the kind that will change your life. “Thy will, not mine be done” is a reckless prayer of radical trust. Praying like that will inevitably lead to disappointment, because it means death to self, and the self is a demanding, selfish beast who resists death at nearly any cost.

What if God is protecting and carrying us in ways we don’t realize? I think about that all the time. How often did I say “Cam, watch for cars!” last summer? Every time Cam crossed the road, but with only one close call. Had I not said that (had the Holy Spirit not whispered something into your heart in just that moment) it could’ve been tragic. Maybe walking in the Spirit is more than just producing spiritual fruit. I have to wonder if it means that we end up getting some kind of intel that perhaps has a bit to do with our comfort and always has to do with the Kingdom of God. Like a toddler who almost falls down the stairs, only to be caught by a hyper-vigilant mom, toddling on and completely ignorant to his mother’s lifesaving heroism, God keeps some level of watch and guidance over us, especially when we ask.

But that guidance can only go so far before it becomes force. And, while there are examples (think of Saul of Tarsus meeting Jesus on the road to Emmaus), it’s probably normal to let us make our choice, even after He’s spoken. After all, when Jesus confronted Paul, it was with a question, not a directive. “Why do you persecute me?” could have led to Paul coming up swinging, saying “because you’re not real and your followers are ruining the religion your Dad started.” He didn’t choose that.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” says the Psalmist. That sounds like somebody asking for direction from a trusted source. It’s there if we want it, even if it’s only one step at a time.

Here we are, almost a week into Emmanuel (God with us) and life barrels toward a new year. Like 2023, 2024 will be a mixed bag. Some good, some bad, but there He is, with us all the way, occasionally offering clear guidance and always offering His Word and presence. His clarity of thought and gracious presence is the better gift by far, as the guidance is for a temporary need, but eternity lasts a lot longer than whatever challenge we face today.