Perspective

Roy's Reflections
by Roy Boswell

I wonder if seeing the shepherds in a Christmas pageant hasn’t conditioned us to associate burlap with the Christmas story. You know, that unbleached burlap you buy in craft stores that gives off a sweet “new burlap” smell. Mothers sew it into simple, pullover garments that cover boys’ blue jeans and T-shirts. Girls get to be angels in white satin dresses, with wings and halos. But boys in their burlap tell the story of Christmas far better than girls in their satin. Let me tell you why.

Angels are clean. Angels are beautiful. They seem almost heavenly, since girl angels always seem to know their parts better than do boy shepherds. The angelic satin stuff goes pretty well in most Christmas pageants. The problems come with the burlap part.

Do you know what real-life shepherds were like? Townspeople looked down on them. “Herdsmen!” they’d scowl mockingly. Shepherds would work with sheep all day, sleep outside with the animals at night, and then come into town dirty, sweaty, and smelly. Tradesmen in the marketplace would be polite enough. Shopkeepers would wait on them, but everybody was happy when they moved along. Burlap fits the part. It really does.

Angels get clouds and the Hallelujah Chorus for props. Shepherds get burlap and a stable full of smelly animals. This place is no spotless birthing room, but a crude barn, with good reason for straw on the floor. Not exactly the setting you’d choose for a birth if you had the luxury of planning ahead.

But Mary and Joseph have no such luxury. They lumber into Bethlehem as the winter sun is setting, bone tired after a four-day journey from Nazareth, wet with perspiration under the wool wraps that shield them against the chilling wind. No cellular phones to call ahead for a reservation or wrangle an invitation from some distant relative. Just overwhelming weariness.

“Innkeeper,” says the taller boy playing Joseph, “do you have any vacancies? My wife is going into labor. We’ve got to find a place to stay the night out of this wind.” The innkeeper shakes his head. “Nothing?” says Joseph, his voice husky. “We’ve got to find a place. Anyplace!” The innkeeper shrugs and points to the barn.

“A stable?” Joseph looks over at the Mary, whose robe is distended with padding to simulate pregnancy. Mary nods, but you can see the pain in her face. And so the innkeeper leads the pair to the stable, moves a few things out of the corner and reaches for the coins Joseph gives him.

Christmas plays always skip over the actual birth, so the next scene opens with scroungy shepherds peering in the door. The satin angel has told them to look for a newborn, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a feeding trough, so they have checked all the stables in town.

And here they find what they have sought: a young couple, reclining exhausted in a barn, and a precious little baby, all wrapped up and lying in a manger, just as the angel said. They push open the stable door to get a better look, and Joseph, hearing the squeak of dry hinges, calls out. “What do you want?”

“The baby, we’ve come to see the baby,” they reply, and then file one-by-one into the barn and kneel on the floor before the manger. The older shepherd removes his headdress in reverence, and other shepherds fumble to do the same.

“How did you know to come?” Joseph asks after a moment. “Angels told us,” is the reply. “They said that tonight in Bethlehem would be born a Savior, who is the Messiah.”

Angels seem appropriate to the birth of God’s son. But straw and sweat and burlap do not. Why, I ask, would the Son of God enter life amidst the rubble of human existence, at the lowest rung of society, in obscurity and at the stable-edge of rejection even before He is born?

And as hard as I think about it, I come back to one truth. Christ wanted to make it explicitly clear that He came to save each and every one of us. He comes to the dark corners of our existence, the desperateness, the loneliness, the rejection, and the pain. He comes to unclean barns and cold nights of despair. He comes because He understands them. He knows them intimately and came for the very purpose of delivering us from those raw stables to a new life with Him.

A life that angels proclaim and humans pray for. To be loved, actually loved by God in spite of our many sins and shortcomings. Our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son reach out to us in the misery of our imperfect existence. God, who sees us at our worst, offers us His best. His Son.

The curtains close, and the audience stands and applauds. Backstage, Sally is removing her white satin costume while Billy yanks off his headdress and burlap as fast as he can. “Don’t tear it,” says the pageant director. “We’ll need it next year.”

Yes, they will need that burlap again, for without it the spectators may just miss the true lesson of Christmas.

One of the radio stations I listen to on my way home from work takes phone calls throughout my drive home. Whenever a listener phones in and shares an interaction with some famous person, the hosts of the show say in unison, “We’re happy for you”. They say this with a touch of sarcasm and it makes the listener realize the insignificance of this meeting to the hosts of the show.

On November 22nd, I received notification that I had received National Board Certification for teaching. This is a very special recognition for a teacher and I was very excited to find out I had received this certification. Only 42% of the teachers across the country who worked for National Teacher Certification received this recognition. The process took me all of last school year to collect data, write analysis, videotape classes, study for a mathematics test, and collate the information.

The Principal of Palatine High School made an announcement to the school at the end of one of the periods in which he listed the three other teachers who received this certification. Throughout the rest of the day a variety of former students came into my classroom or into the math office to wish me congratulations. They came in specifically to tell me, “We’re happy for you.” They had very little idea what National Board Certification means, but they were still happy for me, sincerely happy for me.

There are many times when people have an event occur in their lives, which they are excited about. However, I do not share their same excitement and have a hard time being happy for them. There are many times when we need to recognize how the event can make that person happy. My students who came into my classroom or into the office had no concept of what this recognition was, but they still conveyed their happiness for me. When words are sincere, they can be very powerful.

Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 6:3-10, “We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path, so that our ministry will not be discredited. Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as imposters; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything.”

Many times my love isn’t sincere and my speech is not entirely truthful. I am like the hosts of the radio show who say “We’re happy for you” and not really mean it. My knowledge of the individual’s accomplishment is such that I do not really value their accomplishment enough to be happy for them.

As a father, I recognize my genuine happiness in what my children are doing. From their first smile, to their first steps, to their ability to add numbers; I see how happy I am to see them do small accomplishments.

My hope is to be more like my students and be willing to be genuinely happy for the accomplishments of others, even if I do not appreciate the accomplishment. We are to commend ourselves in every way so that our ministry will not be discredited. As we bring an end to 2002 and begin 2003, I encourage all of you to look at others in your congregations and find ways to be happy for what they do.

What is a comfort zone? To me it is a place or activity where I feel safe, confident, and comfortable. I loved being a nurse and was sure of my abilities to provide good care to my patients. I am not a gourmet cook but I am good at the basics and can improvise. (I have been known to try a new recipe on company.) I enjoy children and have especially enjoyed being a grandparent. I spoil them, so I have been told . I have learned to prioritize and organize; I don’t think I would have survived nursing if I hadn’t learned these skills.

I have comfort zones in my service to the Lord, too. I like being on the service committee, and teaching Sunday school. I enjoy music and like to play the piano in the worship service. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to play with a band. I keep my own beat, much to the dismay of the song leader. But there have been times when I was asked to step outside my comfort zone. Have you ever been ask to do something outside your comfort zone? What was your first reaction? I know what mine was, “Are you kidding? Not me. I can’t do that!”

But II Cor. 12: 9-10 says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is make perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” When I am outside my comfort zone, then I seem to listen more carefully to His leading. I lean more on Him and I learn to trust Him more. I also find myself “constant in prayer.”

I want to do a good job for the people I am serving and do my best for Him, so I think I listen more carefully to Him. I therefore boast in my weakness and give all the glory to God because I know it was not my own power or ability that completed the task. I have learned to trust Him more, even in my comfort zone, and know that He has “not given us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.” (II Tim. 1:7)

Step outside your comfort zone and see what you learn!