The Frolic Sanctity of Advent

A few years ago during the Advent season my wife, Anna, and I attempted to teach our children the story of Christ’s birth through song. We would all gather, rather haphazardly, around the couch or sprawled out on the living room floor. The intention was to teach the kids one hymn each Advent week until Christmas. We truly attempted to teach them more than one hymn, but our fatal (and fantastic) flaw was that our first hymn was “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”. When we tried to move on to a new hymn the children would have none of it. My feeble efforts in teaching “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus” and “Away in a Manger” were met with resistant yawns. So I gave in. It was an O Come, O Come Emmanuel-athon.

Our eldest, Adison, from the moment she heard it, was determined to learn every word to the song. She soaked up every haunting note, carefully watching our mouths as we sang the words. Watching her sing it is infectious. Since then I've spotted her now and then off in a pew by herself before worship flipping through the hymnbook to find “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” and then, with a studious finger-pointing technique, she traces the lines, singing softly to herself. She was seriously devoted to learning the song because her heart had it memorized the first time she heard it.

My son, Noah, on the other hand, was seriously devoted to flipping across the room while we tried to teach this hymn. He had no time for anyone mourning in lonely exile. He was ready to disperse them gloomy clouds and get to the good stuff. As we sang our way through those solemn, expectant verses, he was gearing up for the refrain, ready to unfurl a noise that would make a trumpet curse. “REEEJOICE! REEEJOICE!” Every tiny particle of that little boy’s body united as one biological choir striving towards this one purpose. “REEEJOICE! REEEJOICE!” His voice only gave credence to what the rest of his body was already saying. His face, with eyes wide and wild, screamed, “Rejoice!” His arms rocketed to the sky and his legs sprung him upwards faster than a spooked cat and together they cried, “Rejoice!” Had it not been for the ceiling, the Heavenly Host would’ve undoubtedly mistaken him for one of their own.

And so we sang. I held the hymnbook and carried the tune. My wife held onto Arwen, our third child, and carried our fourth, Willow, in her womb. Adison, like an anchor, delving the depths of the soul of the song, singing the ancient words as if it were the first time they had ever been sung. And we needed that weightiness, because the second our lips stopped moving we would’ve been hurled into the heavens—zipping through the Aurora Borealis and bypassing the Pleiades—borne on the wings of a little boy’s praise.

During that time I experienced, what Chesterton off-handedly calls, deep levity. The seriousness and gravity of the birth of God as Man dancing on the lips of children. Children who have yet to scratch the surface of the amazing implications of what it means for God to become Man, yet with a shriek and a laugh seem to understand it better and with more intimacy than the most learned theological scholar. C.S. Lewis described his Eve-like Green Lady in Perelandra as one who possessed ‘frolic sanctity’. As I think back on it, no better words could define such a moment. A family searching together the depths of the riches and the wisdom and knowledge of God, not through textbooks and chalk dust, but through singing, laughing, and children jumping off of couches.

The Continual Feast

“he who is of a merry heart has a continual feast” -Proverbs 15:15

A continual feast. What an incredibly astounding image! It is a heavenly image. Throughout Scripture we are told of a feast that awaits us and, indeed, it will be continual. When I hear the word ‘feast’ I instantly think of family holiday gatherings and wedding receptions. The food and drink are the best at these events. The roasted (and/or smoked) meats! The best wine! The mountains of endless mashed potatoes. But I am finite so I cannot continually eat and drink. One day I will. Though for now we eat and drink and become sick, at the Continual Feast we will eat and drink and ask for thirteenths. We will put hobbits to shame. And with Jesus as our host, no doubt the wine will just keep getting better and better.

Watching my children dance at a wedding reception gives me nearly an unspeakable amount of joy. Their laughter, their spinning gowns, their ability to feel no embarrassment whatsoever (as exemplified by my son's out of sync herky-jerky step-jump slide'n-rip-the-knees dance moves). But our fallen bodies grow tired (even of watching) and so at some point we must leave. The protestation from the children, despite their exhaustion, speaks to their Christlikeness. They innately long for the Continual Feast.

Oh, if watching my children dance is but the slightest foretaste of heaven then it is a mercy that God has made me finite, for if I experienced the fullness of that joy and love and happiness now, my heart would up and burst.

One day, at the Continual Feast, my heart will be made strong enough to endure the joy, and what would make my heart burst as a fallen man would be but the first flutter in heaven.

In Defense of Santa Claus

Santa is a big issue for quite a few Christians. Many feel quite strongly that Santa Claus has no place in Christmas. Jesus is the reason for the season, so why muddle it all up with a magical gift giver? Why would you LIE to your children? Why spend so much money on toys when you could be feeding the poor? You’re just spoiling them. If your kids believe that Santa is real, then when they find out he’s not, won’t they reject Jesus in the same way?

These are the arguments I’ve bumped up against most, and I’ll be the first to say that they are legitimate. So I won’t deride the parents who decide that No Santa is the best decision for their family. If you think it is harmful to your children and will detract from Christ then who am I to say that you should or shouldn't include the jolly fat elf? I don’t think the parents who feel they should draw the line between Make Believe and Spiritual Reality ought to make an argument for their case. I think the point and their concern is clear enough. The burden is really on those of us who invite Santa Claus into our home.

So at the risk of bringing down the scorn of Church Ladies of both genders, I shall make an apology, without apology, on behalf of my decision to perpetuate the Myth of Old St. Nick under my very Christian roof.

To begin, a quote from St. Tolkien shall (like a voice that cries in the wilderness) prepare the way, "God is the Lord of angels, and of men—and of elves." That is to say, God is sovereign over all things.

I am firmly of the opinion that “Jesus is the reason for the season." So much so, that if Christ was not in Christmas, I would feel awfully different about Santa Claus landing upon the roof of my house on Christmas Eve. Santa, disconnected from Jesus, is a tyrant god. A god who wields the power of reward and punishment based on the standard of his double-checked list of Naughty and Nice. An entity with that kind of power, unchecked, is to be feared, not loved (jollity is neither here nor there; even tyrants can be jolly). Outside of Christ, what guides his motives? What is the standard exactly that one must meet to be placed on the Nice list?

Remember in Prince Caspian when Susan and Lucy encounter the wild frenzy of a party with Bacchus, the god of wine? The party was so extreme that it left them nearly unnerved. But Susan says to Lucy, "I wouldn't have felt safe with Bacchus and all his wild girls if we'd met them without Aslan." And Lucy agrees, “I should think not.”

Santa is safe for us when Christ is with us. If Christ is the Lord of all, then He is Lord of Santa Claus. If Christ is sovereign, then Santa is his servant. In our house, we aspire to place Santa Claus within the Narnian structure. Father Christmas only arrives when Aslan is on the move. He is a servant to the King. And so within this framework, our kids 'believe' in Santa Claus. Santa bows the knee to Jesus, just like they do.

It’s important to understand that when Santa doesn't bow the knee to Christ, we are setting up a rival to Christ. In this way, Santa becomes a tool for behavioral manipulation that is anti-gospel. But when Santa is a servant, rather than minimizing the gospel, all of his magic augments the gospel.

The toys and gifts given in our house are an expression of the overflow of the Gift given to us. There is a season for everything, so I'll not condemn the man whose household is in need of a scaled down gift giving in order to aid in realigning the spiritual health of the house (there is a time for fasting, no?), but I view giving gifts to our kids as a reflection of the overflowing and abundant grace of God. Do they really need all these toys? No. Have they deserved all these toys? The answer is often a resounding, HECK NO! Will they enjoy these toys? Absolutely! Will not their eyes bug out of their head when they see a living room full of packages for them? Is this not a small picture of the grace of God towards sinful man? So I view it as a reflection of grace and look for opportunities to come up (and they always do...even with adults) to speak about it in that way. 

The accusation that I am bold faced lying to my children is a serious one. One that should be said if I am lying. One that should be retracted if I am playing. I have not yet heard any Christian outcry against playing dress up. When my son dresses up like a knight, he believes he is a knight. He went to RenFest and was knighted in a ceremony as serious as a funeral. He acts upon his belief by doing the things a knight does. We have marks on the walls and skinned knees to prove it. When he shows me his muscles I exclaim, “Woah! They’re huge!” When he grows up, do you think he’ll look back on playing with his dad and say, “That lying jerk.”? When the Father and Son playroom dynamic is transitioned to a bigger scale, namely the international, historical, societal dynamic of Santa Claus, the Play gets bigger but the rules of play don’t change.

Consider that the vast reach of this myth so permeates our culture that a complete stranger from a foreign country can ask my child, “What did Santa bring you for Christmas?” If I tell my children, “Santa Claus doesn’t exist” I’ve broken the rules of the game. Now that could be good or bad. Perhaps it was a bad game to begin with, but the rules are broken nonetheless and the game has ended with them. The torch has not been passed on, it has been snuffed out. But if I play along with the game the whole world is in on, I am passing along the torch of a previous generation. This is a far cry from what is understood as lying to children. The accusation must fit the context. But that said, it doesn’t negate the fact that dangers exist, and that a line could still be crossed. I want to argue that I believe it is better to walk that path, confront the danger, and live to tell about it on the other side rather than to never walk the path at all.

Though you have the choice to break the rules (snuffing out the torch), it must be remembered; if you are going to play the Santa game then you must abide by the rules. How foolish would it be for me to put my little knight in real danger while at play? To tell him to slay a real foe of tooth and claw with a foam sword? In the same way, how foolish would it be for me to tell my child Santa Claus is real, when Reality offers a better story to participate in? That is, when my child is three years old the game is in full swing, but when my child is 7 the game has changed. They learn and question things in their maturity and begin to gain small glimpses behind the curtain. And this is when the game can become dangerous.

This is where the Christian outcry against Santa has some weight. To tell your child in these moments that Santa is real is to sin against them. But to tell them before they gather enough information for themselves is a danger as well. My daughter will never learn how to spell “Oklahoma” if I never let her try to figure it out on her own. And so this becomes a prime opportunity for leading your children to discover truth. In this way we walk the path together and arm our children with the weapons they will require down the road when we aren’t there. Leading them to discover the truth, to help them discern between Reality and Make Believe will serve them better spiritually than making the choice for them.

It’s under-girding your child as they learn how to swim. Not allowing them to swim means they’ll never get in the water. Letting go too soon means they could drown. This is the danger, and many Christians would rather their children watch the other kids in the pool than risk drowning, (which is their right, and it’s likely they are wise for doing so—perhaps they’ve never learned how to swim for themselves). But I want my kids to be able to run on firm ground and swim like a fish. Santa provides these opportunities in a unique and extremely fun way. In our house Santa isn’t leading our children to Spiritual destruction; he is augmenting the gospel and arming them to battle Spiritual danger. Just like in Narnia when Father Christmas hands Peter a sword.

I can say this with confidence because this is how I handled it with my eldest child. She began to really question Santa Claus last Christmas. I didn’t come right out and tell her but urged her to think and reason through it, to tell me what she thought. I’m pretty sure she knew the answer, but she held off on the hard questions until after the Christmas season. She knows the game. I’m convinced she wanted one last go of it. This year she has fully crossed over from a ‘believer’ to a ‘co-conspirator’. The game hasn’t stopped for her, just changed. The torch is still lit. The fun continues and now, without even knowing it, she is armed for war. And she will be a dreaded warrior, for she knows the true King—and mirth gleams in her eye. She shall fear no myth, for she will enjoy them, and use them against the wiles of the enemy.

So here’s to Santa Claus, that mythical, magic old elf, armorer of children and servant of the Most High God, who arrives in the train of the King to give gifts that reflect the glory, joy, and grace of His Majesty.

Crazy Hot Dog Night? Themed Meals!

Meals can become monotonous. We can blow through a meal and not think twice about it. Years of public school trains us to eat like machines. Food is simply fuel that needs to be consumed according to a sectioned out pyramid chart. The fast pace of life only reinforces our robotic approach to eating. So when (if) we sit down to share a meal together it goes against all of the overwhelming assaults that life and training has battered us with.

A fun meal is a memorable meal. I’ve already posted about the benefits of singing around the table but we also try to spice things up by coming up with ‘theme’ nights. Themed meals are something to look forward to, something to participate in, and something to fondly look back on. There’s no formula to follow. Just think about what’s fun to do or serve.

One of our favorite themed meals is Crazy Hot Dog Night. This one is pretty simple. Just make some hot dogs and then take virtually everything edible out of the fridge and cupboard and place it on the counter. I’m talking ketchup, mayo, salad dressing, chips, peanut butter, jelly, hot sauce, soy sauce, cottage cheese, bananas, apples, carrots, honey, salt, pepper, raisins, crackers, and basically anything else we can think of. (I just thought of cereal…we haven’t done that one yet…) Then top your hot dog to make it crazy! (Warning: messes will be made so suck it up neat freak and have fun!)

While Crazy Hot Dog night is usually planned earlier in the week it’s not in our normal meal rotation. But we do have one themed meal a week that has been a big hit: Taco Tuesday. Again, pretty simple, but it’s something to look forward to and it’s always interesting coming up with different taco meals. I recommend frying your own corn tortilla shells. It tastes better than packaged shells and it’s pretty simple. Oil in a pan. Fry the tortilla. Don’t burn it. Then try to fold it into a shell (good luck…I’ve yet to master it…one day, corn tortilla my friend, one day…)

We have other themed meals that actually don’t have anything to do with food. The current favorite is Talk Like a Pirate Night. As long as the kids are eating their food, virtually all normal table manners fly out the window. Cups are usually pounded on the table and forks are held in your fists not your fingers. Menacing growls, hooked fingers, and squinty left eyes abound. Conversation is quite hilarious. When my 4 year old son wasn’t eating his food I said, “Avast! Ye best eat yer food ya scurvy dog or I’ll have ye shackled and sunk to the bottom o’Davy Jones’ locker!” He responded with an “Arrr! Matey! Shimber me timbers!” and a big sloppy pirate bite of food. Come to think of it, it’s quite therapeutic.

I said this in my last post but I want to say it again;

Of course we want our kids to have table manners and we want them to eat what’s on their plate, but what is more important than table manners, and even more important than finishing every last bite is the ongoing character shaping experience of joy that is found in a family fellowshipping together. I want my kids to remember that our times at the table were times of joy. Times where we not only talk about God, but sing about Him. I want them to remember good food and good fun. When I’m an old man I want to hear them tell stories about their time around the table that causes us to laugh until it hurts.

I want to encourage you to think up a few of your own themed meals. Come up with them together as a family! Don’t let food become mere fuel. Make food fun! Make memories together around your table.

I would love to hear what kind of themed meals you come up with or ones you already have!

Thou Shalt Sing!

As a kid growing up I was blessed (without realizing it) that our family ate together. Sometimes we ate in front of the TV, but more often we ate around the big wooden table in the kitchen. One of the things instilled in me as a result was the dinner table etiquette. I assume each family has there own ‘house rules’ but I’m sure many are the similar. We learned how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when passing and receiving the mashed potatoes. We had to ask to be excused from the table. Belching was a big no-no (despite our attempts to convince our parents that it was a complement…). And saying, “Yuck” or “I don’t like that” became a death sentence because when those words were uttered you were served an extra spoonful. You quickly learned to think twice before you criticized your plate. Of course if you simply just left the inedible food on your plate untouched then came the ominous threat of “Eat it or wear it” (ominous then…hilarious now). However, it was mostly an empty threat. I say mostly because I can recall some form of food being dumped upon one of my siblings. I don’t remember who, but it was probably my brother…

Those were some good rules with good intention behind them. But there was one ‘house rule’ that never made sense to me. The rule was “No Singing at the Table!” I always thought (and still do) that it is a stupid rule. Looking back as a parent myself I can only assume this rule was enacted because singing at the table must have distracted us from eating (and it was likely true…I would’ve sung till dawn if it meant I didn’t have to eat my brussel sprouts…).

So when I grew up I swore to myself that there would be no such rule at my table. I actually think singing at the table is one of the best things a family can do together. Nothing goes better with good food and drink than a good song. So the rule at my house is "Thou Shalt Sing!"

One of the things I’d like to do is to be more intentional about singing at the table. So far it’s just been willy nilly. The other night we did an impromptu ‘Guess the movie by what song I sing’ game that lasted until after the table was cleared and it was a blast. I need to be more deliberate about doing things like that. What a great time to introduce your kids to one of the great hymns. Maybe incorporate a hymn before the meal that is offering thanks to God. My son thinks everything is a drum. The table is a sturdy place to teach that boy some rhythm!

Of course we want our kids to have table manners and we want them to eat what’s on their plate, but what is more important than table manners, and even more important than finishing every last bite is the ongoing character shaping experience of joy that is found in a family fellowshipping together. I want my kids to remember that our times at the table were times of joy. Times where we not only talk about God, but sing about Him. I want them to remember good food and good fun. When I’m an old man I want to hear them tell stories about their time around the table that causes us to laugh until it hurts.

Singing is so rare outside of the realm of commercialized entertainment that it is almost weird for people to sing together. I want my kids to be weird. I want them to be countercultural. I want them to value song and singing together as much as they value food and eating together, and the dinner table is the most natural place for these things to take place.

Trying to become more intentional about singing at the table is just one part of developing that joyful experience of eating together. In the future I'll post about other fun things we try to do around the table...like Crazy Hot Dog Night...

Do you sing at the table?