Letters from the Equator

It’s hard to look past the glitter and gold of the season’s festivities. I, for one, have never been acquainted with a tradition of Christmas, since I was never brought up around it. Now, even seven years after my conversion, I still don’t have a firm hold on what should be done on Christmas day.

So far, at least for the past three years, it has been about preparing for presentations, Christmas eve services, dinners and lunches, and reflecting on Christ’s coming (and return).

2005 has been a very broken year for me, at least on the inside. It didn’t exactly turn out the way I wanted it to, especially after a fresh start of marriage in January. My spiritual health was affected, with the lack of obedience and exercising spiritual habits. With that as a looming caution, I drugded on with my worldly pursuits, attempting to piece together an impression of OK.

That left me in a state of anxiousness, an occurence quite regular. I still managed to survive the year, in that I didn’t go completely mad… nor did I end up losing the faith. But in some ways this year has been a marker of bad things in personal choices.

Here’s what Jesus said in Luke 18: 9-14…

Jesus also told this parable… “Once there were two men who went up to the Temple to pray: one was a Pharisee, the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood apart by himself and prayed. ‘I thank you, God, that I am not greedy, dishonest, or an adulterer, like everybody else. I thank you that I am not like that tax collector over there. I fast two days a week, and I give you one tenth of all
my income.’But the tax collector stood at a distance and would not even raise his face to heaven, but beat on his breast and said, ‘God, have pity on me, a sinner!’ I tell you,” said Jesus, “the tax collector, and not the Pharisee, was in the right with God when he went home.”

I knew all along that being the gentleman, God never beat me to death or threw me to the dogs (though at times, I wished that he would’ve) for subscribing to deceptive things in my life. He merely allowed me make my choices, fall down (a bit too many times) and pick myself up again.

I tried initially to be like what the Pharisee represented, and ended up being the tax collector instead. But with Christ, forgiveness became mine. Out of 120 full years of a man’s life, one year doesn’t seem very little, and with each passing day, I am reminded of the ephemerality of the things around me. Toy as much with it as I want, I can’t run away from the fact that my true goal is and has been to meet God in his fullness.

So, here’s to that great Christmas! To a new year and new me.

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