A Dented Fender Christmas

The bright, shiny lights of the Christmas tree are up.  The newly wrapped gifts have been carefully placed underneath.  The stockings have been hung by the chimney with care, but it’s not always St. Nicholas who arrives, but the Grinch! 

Christmas can be a weird time.  We can go into debt, spending what we don’t have, over guilt for something that happened years ago, all in the name of Christmas.  We start to get convinced that if Meghan doesn’t get that desired expensive gift, all will be lost.  Or we can look at our forlorn little tree, frustrated that yet another year goes by and we have no one to share it with.  There’s the competing demands of different family members who all want a piece of us at Christmas time.  And that’s before we add to the mix the rude, drunken relatives some of us have to endure, or the family wars that can break out over Christmas dinner.  Always special. 

Christmas can also be a time for comparing.  Look at those crazy Jones’, we think.  They’ve got lights that are timed to music!  They seem to have so many fun parties going on that I’m never invited to.  Every year their kids get the latest and greatest things.  They seem so happy.  Why can’t I have that, too?  Never mind that the Jones’ could’ve maxed out their 8^th credit card and may be swimming in debt up to their eyeballs!  We can get so caught up in looking at the mirage of Christmas all around us, we forget to look at what is real, what truly matters.

So what is real?  What does matter?  I’m glad you asked … 

Jesus.  It sounds way too simple.  Trite, even.  We’ve all heard it a million times.  Mary and Joseph had to go to Bethlehem for a census, but since there were so many people doing the same thing, the Inns were all full.  Mary started was going into labor, so they found a stable they could stay in, and she gave birth to Jesus in a dirty barn full of animals.  So what’s the big deal?

I want you to think about the most important, wealthiest, most accomplished and powerful person in this world that you know of.  Now, think of that person making a decision to leave behind all their wealth, all their privilege and worldly power, and, assuming they could, decide to come back to this world as the child of a working class teenaged mother married to a blue-collar man, and to willingly be born in a barn.  Oh, and you’re going to grow up and get persecuted, beaten and murdered.  I can’t think of anyone volunteering for that role.

Yet God did.  He sent a piece of himself to live here, on our beautiful but broken planet, and to enter this realm in the humblest manner possible. Jesus chose to leave his throne, to allow himself to be completely dependent on humans for a time, and to dedicate his life to their spiritual and emotional rescue.  He didn’t just do this for mankind.  He did this for me.  He did this for you.

Christmas, at its core, is about taking time to acknowledge a love that runs so deep, there is nothing it won’t sacrifice.  For that little baby would grow up to be a man, and that man would devote his life to teaching you and me how to be healed and whole from the inside out.  He would commit every fiber of his being to helping us reach a kingdom so beautiful and rich, it will never perish and fade.  This love for you and me was so strong, that eventually that man would allow himself to be sentenced and executed in our place so we would no longer have to bear the weight of our guilt and shame.  He died for our freedom.  He died for our peace.  He died for our right of passage.  And he allowed himself to be born here so he could give us those things.

That’s the true meaning of Christmas.  Honestly, we don’t need a special day to acknowledge it.  A tree really has nothing to do with it.  The presents are meant to represent birthday gifts, a symbol of Jesus coming here for us, not a vehicle for more credit card debt and stress.  It’s highly unlikely Jesus was even born on Christmas day.  Still, when you awake on that morning, the day that for whatever reason the world has chosen to set aside to remember the virgin birth, make time to reflect on the amazing love your God has for you.  Remember you are never truly alone, even if you have no one around you.  No one can take this love from you—not the credit card companies, your crazy family members, or even the Jones’ next door.  It is your precious gift, a prize beyond measure.  It is God’s deep and abiding love for you, sent down to this earth in the humblest manner possible so you and I would know there’s nothing God wouldn’t do to win our love.  Remember—you are blessed.

For Further Thought: “The people who had been living in darkness have seen a great light.  The light of life has shined on those who dwell in the shadowy darkness of death.  And You, God, will make it happen. You bolstered the nation, making it great again. You have saturated it with joy.  Everyone in it is full of delight in Your presence, like the joy they experience at the harvest, like the thrill of dividing up the spoils of war.  For as You did back in the day when Midian oppressed us, You will shatter the yoke that burdens them, You will lift the load that weighs them down, You will break the rod of their oppressor.  It’s true. All the fabric of war will go up in flames ... there will be a new time, a fresh start.  Hope of all hopes, dream of our dreams, a child is born, sweet-breathed; a son is given to us: a living gift.   And even now, with tiny features and dewy hair, He is great.  The power of leadership, and the weight of authority, will rest on His shoulders.  His name? His name we’ll know in many ways—He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Dear Father everlasting, ever-present never-failing, Master of Wholeness, Prince of Peace,” (Isaiah 9:2-6).  This Christmas, take time to remember and to rejoice in the true gift you have received: the salvation of your soul from your Father in Heaven. 

My Fortune

The smell of warm, steaming Chinese food filled the air as my family and I sat down to eat.  At the end of the meal, as we always do, we read our fortunes out loud to each other.  Though we don’t believe in them, we usually get a good giggle from the reading.  As I cracked open my cookie, carefully unfolding the slip of paper inside, I smiled in anticipation and read: “A man who trims himself to suit everybody will soon whittle himself away.” 

I couldn’t giggle at that, probably because I understand the quote too well.  I’ve been that person.  I’ve tried to accommodate, to please and to change key pieces of who I am to fit into someone else’s mold of who they thought I should be.  I’ve even allowed that to be done to me in the name of God. 

I’m not talking about character flaws here.  If I struggle with being disciplined, I certainly hope to grow in it!  If I tend to put my foot in my mouth, you can bet I’ll work on learning to tame my words.  These are qualities that can hurt me and hurt others.  Instead, I’m talking about the beautiful, unique qualities that make up who I am, and are part of how God has made me to be, the areas He’s calling me to shine in.

I used to think of those qualities as special pairs of shoes, each beautiful and unique.  My laughter, my joy, my energy, my drive, my humor (it’s quirky!), my passion, my thoughts and the way I can get lost in them, for better or worse – these are pieces of who I am.  Each quality, though universal, is unique in how it’s expressed in me – and in you.  They are the pieces that allow each of us to dance through life to a tune God has uniquely written for each one of us alone. 

Finding someone who admires and appreciates our dance brings great joy and connection.  Sometimes, though, I’ve met people who seem to appreciate who I am, only to ask me to be something different, something I’m not.  It starts off slowly at first, seemingly innocent.  “Could you not take out your humor with me?  I don’t appreciate it.” 

I think, No worries!  I have friends who love and get my humor, and others who don’t.  I’ll just hold that back whenever we’re together.  So I carefully place that box on a shelf in my closet, saving those shoes for a different occasion. 

“Could you not use all the words you love?  It makes me feel insecure.”

Again, my first thought is, Sure.  I know not everyone loves words the way I do.   I don’t mind simplifying my word choice around anyone.  After all, I would hate to make them feel bad!  So away that pair of shoes goes, high on that shelf in my closet.   

And sometimes, before I know it, those statements can morph into, “Could you not smile so much?  It’s irritating,” or, “Could you be a little less positive?  Life is never that good,” or, “Could you not be more driven than me?  Or take care of yourself physically?  Or work on growing in who you are?  It makes me feel less.” 

If I’m not careful, before long I can look up and notice my closet is full of beautiful shoes I’m not wearing, all in an effort to please someone I originally thought admired my life’s dance.  I can get so caught up in pleasing someone else, I lose sight of who I am.  I’m like that frog you hear about.  Put a frog in boiling water and it will immediately jump out.  Put a frog in normal water and very slowly heat it up, and the frog will boil to its death.  It happens so gradually, the frog no longer senses the danger. 

Sadly, I’ve been there.  I’m unhappy, listless.  I feel lost and deeply insecure, questioning everything about who I am and how God has made me to be.  I begin to feel defective, unworthy, unlovable and needy.  I miss my shoes, my own unique dance God has called me embrace, but I begin to question even that, to wonder if I’m crazy, if there is something fundamentally wrong with me after all.  I’ve allowed someone to whittle away at my sense of worth until all that’s left is a pile of sawdust in my heart and mind.  The closet doors are closed, and all that is unique and special about me sits in darkness. 

When you’re a pleaser, like I am, it’s hard to walk away.  You start to think, If I could just make this person understand this, or embrace that, or, If I can just say things in exactly the right way each time, this person will like my dance again; they will like me.  The water is boiling, and I even know it, but I keep thinking if I can wait just a bit longer, the heat will turn off and the water will go back to normal.  It never does.  I exit far later than God would want for me, burned and scarred from the experience.

Thankfully, God doesn’t forget who I am even when I’ve lost sight of it.  He opens the closet doors wide, reminding me of who He’s made me to be.  He gently and lovingly heals the burns, teaching me how to avoid them in the future.  He picks me up from the dust, and makes me into something even more beautiful than before.  And He helps me put my beautiful shoes back on, ready to dance before Him once again.

For Further Thought: “Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb.  I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!  Body and soul, I am marvelously made!  I worship in adoration—what a creation!  You know me inside out …” (Psalm 139).  This holiday season, when you can be put around people who don’t honor and respect who you are, remember always that God sees you as marvelous!  And if, like me, you’ve allowed someone to whittle you down until there’s nothing left, remember not only can God rescue you from that situation, He wants to!  He can rebuild you back into who He’s created you to be, better and stronger for the process, even if you can’t feel or believe that right now.  Don’t be afraid to take out those shoes and dance!

Be Our Guest: Hannah Flaten

My name is Hannah Flaten and I was recently asked to write a guest blog for The Dented Fender. At first, I wondered what someone like me could possibly contribute to such an insightful and spiritually engaging blog. I’m 21 years old, I rarely go to church, and I spend more time thinking about dogs than anything else. I was initially inclined to say no to guest writing. I’m in the process of wrapping up my first semester at Ohio State—I recently transferred from Miami University (think bleak Western Ohio, not vibrant South Florida)—and have a lot on my plate. I pushed the blog to the back of my mind and tried to focus on the final projects, essays, and exams that are fast approaching. Instead of focusing strictly on school, I found myself constantly coming back to the idea of a blog post. I kept my own blog a few years ago when I was sick and it provided me with both a creative outlet and a deeper sense of purpose. Since coming to OSU, I haven’t had either of those things and the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was asked to write for a reason. So, with that, here is a glimpse at some of the dents in my own fender.

I have always had a hard time sitting still. I was a rambunctious, bubbly child who probably only avoided trouble because I was exceptionally bright for my age, and I don’t mean that in a snooty, ‘spoke-four-languages-straight-out-of-the-womb’ way. In kindergarten, I was reading Charlottes Web and Harry Potter and analog clocks. ANALOG CLOCKS!! Honestly, I can barely read those now so how smart was I really? As I progressed through elementary school I continued to bounce from thing to thing. One year it was gymnastics, the next it was a creative writing class held every Saturday morning, the following was an all boys flag football team. I was never truly still during my childhood years, which is hardly noteworthy for a young girl with undiagnosed attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. As I grew older, however, my classmates began to settle into their own being. They found things that interested them and chose their lunch table companions wisely. Meanwhile, I would bop around from table to table, never quite settling on one friend group or one particular interest.

In junior high, I started spending my summers with family and friends in Iowa and Minnesota. I loved my visits to the deep Midwest because I never had time to fully settle in one spot. I would arrive, wreak havoc for a week, and move on to my next destination. I didn’t settle, I didn’t stop, I didn’t think.  When I was in high school and the rest of my peers continued to develop their own sense of self and establish tightknit circles, I was trying new sports and picking things out of my braces and still not sitting still. After a few years in high school, the hyperactivity shifted to restlessness. I soon decided to transfer to Culver Academy, an Indiana boarding school that offered a whole new world and a whole new reason to start over. I truly enjoyed my time there and I still feverishly rave about it to anyone who will listen. My time there flew by: I never had time to settle, to stop, to think.

 The next step for me was college. I was excited to have yet another reason to start over in a new place with new people. I hit the ground running and enjoyed the new freedoms and fun that life as a freshman had to offer. This new world spun to a halt my second semester when my lungs collapsed from a virus that forced me to stop school for an entire year as I made my way in and out of various hospitals. While the sickness itself was a challenge, the hardest part was that I was forced to sit still. I finally had to settle, to stop, to think. I learned a lot about myself in that year and saw a pattern in my life; I was never content with where I was. I was never content with who I was.

It was like I always wanted more. I kept trying to fill myself up and try new things and go different places but I always found myself struggling to sit still. When I got to OSU, I wasn’t sure how to enter this new world. I was no longer the only new girl in the high school dormitory, I was no longer surrounded by eager freshman desperate to make friends and go to parties where no one knew their name, and I was no longer sick and able to hide behind the medicine. I was just another face among one of the largest student bodies in the country. In this realization that I’m not always the blooming center of attention that I should be (kidding), I felt myself being pulled to something bigger than me. As I allowed myself to move closer to this feeling, I found myself becoming more and more still. I didn’t feel like I wanted anything more. I also realized that this is the feeling my mom had so often described to me when she talked about her relationship with God.

I decided to write about sitting still because I think it’s something that has been relatively abandoned in today’s society. Everything is fast food and instant message and two-day shipping. We so often forget that where we are right now is okay, that we can stop and sit still and bask in the glow of uncertainty and chaos. That very glow is the light of God, the same light He sheds on all of us in times of immense joy and comfort. His light is never dimmed, although it may appear filtered by different circumstances, which is why it is so important to settle, to stop, to think. The different filters we place on His light are simply our own projections blocking the true radiance of his love. We get so caught up in our busy lives that we forget to stop and remove the opaque filter the hustle and bustle puts between us and God. We forget that the gloomy storms are still part of the same sky that casts rainbows above our heads, and that weather is only temporary, the sky itself, unchanging. We can continue to search for rainbows after the storm, but it is also important to know that the storm is okay too. Instead of jumping from one thing to the next and always searching for that instant fulfillment, I’ve learned that I can be okay right where I am because I know that both God and the sky are always above me, even if their light is dimmed. Although I still have relatively severe ADHD, I have finally learned to sit still.

For Further Thought:  In Psalm 46:10, God tells us, "Be still, and know that I am God."  The Message Bible says it this way: "Step out of the traffic!  Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything."  Take time this holiday season to step out of the craziness, be still, and connect with the God we're worshipping this Christmas.  Let Him give you that immense joy and comfort only He can give.