This isn't to say that I never journal. I have one; I write in it occasionally when the mood strikes or when I am in an unusual flow of ambition. Last year about this time I had that uncharacteristic ambition to be consistent in chronicling my thoughts about events in life and church. The other day I looked back on what I wrote in my journal over the Christmas season last year. It's not Hallmark material.

Journal entry 12 /15 /06
Well, I hate people.

That quote pretty much sums up how I felt 10 days before the event. Christmas ‘06, for me, was mired in a church malaise that threatened to drain the holiday of any beauty it possessed. It’s an old story, familiar to anyone in church for more than a couple of years: Some things change in church and some people can’t. The result is not something you can hang on a tree or would want adorning your porch on winter’s frigid eve-nings. It’s something incongruous with the spirit of the season, like a chicken suit at a funeral. It’s misery.

There aren’t many Christ-mas tales about misery. Not many yuletide yarns about abject discour-agement or carols about burning dis-gust. Christmas, so often in popular culture, is not about life or reality at all. It might end in reunions, or it might be about warm lessons, or it could be built on children’s idealism, and certainly it is the place memo-ries dwell. But, it’s not about misery.

Which means that Christmas and I didn’t have much to talk about last year at this time. Funny, when things in life are not right, arbitrary dates set on the calendar are not as anticipated. The atmosphere of my life leading up to Christmas last year was equal parts frustration and foreboding. “Hatred” was the only word I could find at the time, and it rendered every holiday smile con-trived, and every card suspicious, and celebration excruciating.

Journal entry 12/19/06
The saga continues — Now I’ve heard a rumor that one of our families is leaving. For history’s record: never once has either of them mentioned leaving or mentioned having a struggle — I can’t understand — trading in years of relationships without even a conversation — there is a world to save, our own spiritual lives to perfect, and yet the most trivial of matters are what people separate over.

I would have happily paid the grinch to steal Christmas '06, only the substance of this particular holiday wouldn't have been worth the effort to tie an antler on that poor mutt's head. As Christmas drew near, the celebration seemed pointless. The glitter of tinsel and warmth of lights were more a mockery of the season than anything. It reminded me of all Christmas wasn't this year. It wasn't fun; it wasn't meaningful; it wasn't hopeful; it wasn't comforting; it wasn't joyful. It wasn't — Christmas.

It was any other day, any other month. December slogged on like it was March. March is wet, damp. March is soggy feet and muddy yards and dreary sunsets and bland dawns. March is the month equivalent of gray. December 19 felt like March 19: forgettable weather with no point to the season at all. When life strips Christmas of its wonder, December is nothing more than another March, only you have to wait longer for the splendor of June.

And that's what life had done. It had turned Christmas into another annoying season to endure and not an event to celebrate. It had scoured my optimism clean, filled it with futility, and managed to make everything about the holiday seem shrill and tawdry. Life had managed to depose Christmas and enthrone reality. Hard, cold, and hopeless, reality ruled December '06 like a tyrant at war with hope.

Journal entry 12/20/06
In spite of it all, I WILL enjoy Christmas

I remember in these words a childlike determination, not so much of the noble variety, but of the delusional variety. It was the kind of determination people muster when they exclaim, "I will enjoy my root canal." You know you won't, but you're upset that you can't. It's a defiance of what can't be changed that borders on the irrational. That's what these words conjure in my memory. They are my defiance to the truth that I would do no such thing at Christmas; I would not enjoy it.

I would endure it. I'm a Christian. I'm a pastor. I can't skip Christmas. In many ways, I am the face of Christmas; it might as well be in my contract. I endured the sermons I preached. I endured the carols we sang. I endured the festivities and parties we hosted and attended. I endured the programs at church. I smiled; I sang; I preached. I did all this swimming in contention and uncertainty and sadness.

What I wrote in my journal was not what I knew in my heart. In my heart I wanted this fraudulent season to end so we could get on with the rancor at hand.

Journal entry 12/28/06
Everything over — Christmas Eve had over 20 people at the house — it was a very fun evening with chili and home-made eggnog — very festive. The real “fun” of Christmas, it seems, is the fellowship with others and kids —I don t know what Christmas was like be-fore we started having others over — it is so much better when shared.

And there it was. I can't say that it's inspiring prose or even an inspiring thought. But, as I wrote those words, I understood that life doesn't always schedule madness and petulance and discouragement around Christmas. In looking back on it, I discovered that though life may make Christmas very inconvenient, Christmas comes anyway. Christmas invaded our home with the warmth of Christian fellowship. It melted the calluses of adulthood with the innocence of children's wonder. It overcame disgust and frustration about my present situation with traditions that reminded me of all that has been good about Christmases past.

In December of '06, my life dreaded the approach of Christmas. And Christmas came anyway. It always has.

Christmas came to Bob Cratchit's family, even though old Mr. Scrooge had fired him the day before. Facing destitution, Dickens tells us that the joy of Christmas descended on the house and refused to be put off by the desperation.

Christmas came to bloody Flanders Field in World War I. It came and it brought a peace to no man's land that allowed combatants to lay down arms and sing carols with one another as Christmas trees popped up in the festering misery of the trenches.

Christmas came as the fighting intensified in the frozen Ardennes Forest in Belgium. Inconvenient and greeted with the sound of bombardment and shrieking tank wheels, Christmas arrived on schedule December 25, 1944, as it always had.

Christmas came in my home when I was a kid and our family probably couldn't afford Christmas. Christmas doesn't care if it is financially feasible; it has never cared about the gifts or the extravagance of the decorations. Christmas comes anyway.

Christmas came to the world originally in spite of not being asked and in spite of the tyranny of Rome and the upheaval in Palestine. Christmas came to a young couple that could scarcely understand the meaning but knew well the sacrifice they faced. Christmas came in spite of our sin, as it spilled into a world of darkness with unspeakable light; it requires no preparation. Christmas comes anyway.

And Christmas came last year to my life, but not as a boisterous celebration nor in the wake of elaborate programs. It came subtly but inevitably. It came in the company of brothers and sisters in Christ and in the idealism of my kids, which I envy more and more with each passing year. Christmas didn't care about my lack of "spirit" or my struggles with people. Christmas came anyway.

In good times and worse times, as individuals or as a creation, we need the sublime words to wash over us, "For unto you is born this day, in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord...Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace, good will towards men." In all of the opportunities to find despair and discouragement in living, we need Christmas and its hope of life, Christ. We need the promise of redemption and the token of God’s love.

In browsing my journal, I am assured that Christmas doesn’t care if it can be afforded, or if it is good timing or if we are prepared for it, or it makes sense, or even if it will be observed at all. Because it has to, because we need it to, Christmas comes anyway.