If You Dare

Thanksgiving was a bust–for fitting in my jeans, that is.  Not many meals bring me as much pleasure or tempt me with gluttony as much as a turkey dinner with all the trimmings.  Mmm.

Black Friday we did a little shopping and took the kids to an all you can eat Asian buffet.  I’m sitting there stuffing my mouth with Hong Kong chicken and cheese won tons thinking to myself: What are you doing? 

I asked my family how it is we can gorge ourselves one day, thinking we could go a week without eating, to the next day eating it all all over again.  No one had an answer for me.  To make matters worse, we had family Christmas parties Saturday and Sunday.  Today was not a good day to try on clothes.

It was at one of the parties that I talked with a cousin that I rarely get to see.  I guess that’s one of the reasons for those sorts of things.  I enjoyed our conversation thoroughly.  There was a bit of it, though, that I haven’t been able to shake.

I said I wanted rid of one of our politicians like I want rid of a migraine.

She smiled and said, “Well, at least you know what ya have.”

Ever heard that?  Ever said that?  Ever thought that?

“At least you know what ya have.”

What if:

*Christopher Columbus feared uncharted waters?

*Martin Luther agreed that the church, not God, had the final Word?  

*Our forefathers thought taxation without representation was cool?

*All the nations believed Hitler was doing the world a favor?

*Jesus didn’t think we were worth His precious life?   

That one might give you pause to think.  It caused me to pause and I’m the one writing it. 

“At least you know what ya have.”

That statement makes me think of another.

There are three types of people: those who make things happen, those who watch things happen, and those who wonder what happened.

At different times in my life, I’ve been given to all three.  But as I age, the last two are becoming less acceptable to me.  I imagine I’ll find all three a part of me for as long as I live, but the latter are much less desirable.  It’s as if I have a holy dissatisfaction rising up inside of me.  I know what I have and it simply isn’t enough.  There’s so much more to life than this.  I cost Jesus too much to live a life that’s beneath the price He paid.  He offered me His life.  Should I offer Him any less?  Should you?  

I was wondering if you might be willing to take a challenge with me this Christmas and ask Jesus what He would like for His birthday.  Believe it or not, if He has something specific in mind, He’ll tell us.  It might be to give something away that matters little to us but will mean the world to someone else.  Then again, His request might cost us dear.  And maybe not so much by way of material goods (although that may be the case) but a sharing of ourselves that takes us out of our comfort zones or requires time we don’t think we have.  We have a few weeks to ask.  He has a few weeks to answer.  The only thing we have to lose is ourselves.  Are you brave enough to join me?