Santa Claus is Coming...

Better watch out…. Better not cry…

Ok, Santa rule number two, and I’ve already failed. Yes folks, for the first time ever, Christmas has made me cry.  It’s trivial, I know. For goodness’ sake, I don’t even celebrate the holiday (for those of you wondering, I am NOT Jehovah’s Witness). And actually, that’s part of the issue. In the hustle and bustle of gift giving, parties, and packages from home, I am feeling isolated.

These feelings confuse me. I mean, I made this decision back when I studied the whole thing out, right? I’ve taken this stand before. This is what I BELIEVE….. isn’t it? But I’ve never been alone in it before. Always there was family and church and many, many friends that stood with me.

And I’ve realized that it is much easier to stand together, than to stand alone.

Suddenly I’m faced with decisions I’ve never had to make. Am I ok with receiving gifts? Will I attend the Christmas party if only for the sake of my fellow students? Will I participate in the Secret Angel gift exchange that brings so much joy to everyone this season? How do I feel about a tree in the house?

Honestly, I kinda feel like a jerk. This decision is not just my isolated stand; it is affecting those around me. My gracious housemates find it necessary to ask permission to decorate, and to play Christmas music. Instead of enjoying the pieces of tradition they can carry out on this foreign soil and finding comfort in them, they too must feel the pressure of seeking not to offend. And how gracious they’ve been! Yet it feels so hard.

I feel that in some ways the stand I’ve taken is depriving others of some of the comfort and joy they wish for this season.

I realize too, that this is a foolish thing to expend emotional energy on. There are so many MUCH BIGGER issues in the world. Perhaps the tears are selfish, and the sad feelings are self-pity or lack of courage. When I think of this, I am once again awed by my very humanity. A simple act of obedience to what God has asked of me, and I find myself emotionally distraught. Whatever happened to the strong and bold missionary I’ve dreamed of becoming? How can I pretend to be sure that I’d stand with Christ to the death, when this simple issue is cause for distress of heart? So once again I find myself admitting:

I need Christ.

I am not strong enough, or bold enough, or even courageous. I am weak, and broken, and poor, and without Him, I am nothing. I am not wise enough to know how to walk in a gracious way through this holiday season…. apart from Christ. In HIM I have the wisdom, courage, grace, and understanding that I lack.

And serving God is all about being different.

So while I’m choosing to say no to the gift exchange, the parties, and the Christmas movies that surround me, I’m also choosing to enjoy the joyful hearts of my housemates and co-workers. I’m choosing to laugh with them over the life-sized, light-up, salmon-colored camels that are currently parading wise men across the parking lot of the local Shell station. I am choosing to rejoice with them over exciting packages from home. And I’m laughing about all the Filipinos who are ‘dreaming of a white Christmas’. Christmas here starts in September. I’ll let you know when it ends. But I pray that the thing God is doing in my heart sticks around for a while.  So there ya have it. Like it or not, there are some true life confessions of a missionary heart.  A heart that is choosing to sing:

 “Joyful! Joyful, We adore thee!”