A few weeks ago, I was hanging out with a friend, and he said, "Oh, there is something I've been wanting to show you. I don't know what to do about this."
I was intrigued.
He proceeded to reach into his wallet and pull out a dollar bill. He told me he got this dollar bill as part of some change he received from a fast food place. It was a crisp, fresh bill. But written on it—in some of the best handwriting I've ever seen, by the way—was a vulgar statement about God.
Actually, it was three vulgar statements. I can't repeat them here. I'm not even sure how to describe them in a PG way!
My friend wanted to know what he should do with this dollar bill. He didn't want to spend it and put it back in circulation for others to read. So he wanted my advice. And I confess, I wasn't much help in the moment. I was kind of stunned by it.
Whoever wrote this was clearly angry at God. As I said, this wasn't just a careless scribble. They put time and attention into writing a creative message meant to insult and degrade God. It was, in its own way, a work of obscene art. And the artist wasn't simply apathetic to God as some people may be. No. For whatever reason, they saw God as bad news.
But I started thinking this week... Isn't it interesting that the message of Christmas is the exact opposite of this? When the angel came to visit the shepherds on that first Christmas night, this is what he said:
But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." (Luke 2:10-12, NIV)
The angel was making a bold claim. In that culture, the Savior of the world was said to be the important guy living in the palace—Caesar! But now this angel says the true Savior is actually a newborn baby who, at this very moment, is lying in a messy feeding trough. And these lowly shepherds get a personal invite to go see him.
I've seen the movie The Polar Express about 100 times. From that statistic, you may think it's a personal favorite of mine. But actually, 99 of those times have been in the past two weeks! We put it on for our 3-year-old son, Emmett, and he became instantly hooked.
There is one moment in the movie that I love. After overcoming a series of mishaps, the Polar Express train has finally reached the North Pole. The conductor has done everything in his power to keep the train on course. And now he can hardly believe they've arrived. As he looks out from the train, he laughs with joy. He then covers his mouth with his hands and begins to weep with relief. It has been a long night, and you can sense how cathartic this moment is for him.
I wonder if this is how the angels felt on the night Jesus was born. Just as the conductor's joy came after a long night of challenges, the angels' celebration marked the culmination of God's plan to bring salvation to the world. God had set this plan in motion thousands of years ago. It had been a bumpy ride (literally for Mary since she probably rode a donkey to Bethlehem!). But now the moment was finally here. No wonder the angels couldn't contain themselves and cried out, "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests" (Luke 2:14).
Could this baby really be good news of great joy for all the people? Even for people who see him as bad news and deface dollar bills with vulgar messages?
Yes!
This is the magic of Christmas.
We are all invited to go to the manger and gaze at this helpless baby who will soon save the world—not by force, but by sacrificially giving up his life.
There is hope for all of us.
When I saw what was written on that dollar bill, I didn't know how to respond. Part of me was angry at the person for being so angry at God. My friend and I brainstormed some options:
Maybe he should burn the bill so that no one else would ever have to read it.
Maybe he should do a good deed with the bill and use it to buy food for a homeless person. Kind of a "What you intended for harm, God intended for good" (Genesis 50:20) take on it.
Maybe he should write a positive counter-message on it. Something like, "God loves the person who wrote this."
Maybe he should turn it into the bank and let them decide what to do.
We even decided to consult a higher power about it. And by "higher power," I mean my dad. We were confident he'd know what to do! So I called him up and explained our dilemma. His answer surprised us: He suggested we buy a scratch-off lottery ticket with it. (And, I assume, give the winnings away to charity.)
We weren't sold on any of these ideas. But as my friend and I kept talking, we started to have more compassion for the person who wrote it.
Who knows what this person is going through or what kind of pain they are dealing with? Who knows what they have experienced that made them want to direct so much anger toward God?
If I sat down with them face-to-face, what story would they tell me?
Finally, my friend said, "What if I just keep this and pray for whoever wrote it?"
I thought that was a great idea. Better than anything I came up with! Because no matter how far from God this person may seem, Christmas says there is hope for them.
And no matter how badly I mess up or you mess up, Christmas says there is hope for us.
The crying baby in the manger really is good news for all of us. His cries ring with hope. They remind us that, as the song goes,...
Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled."
We sometimes go to great lengths to separate ourselves from God.
But God goes to greater lengths to reconcile us back to him.
Wishing you and your loved ones a very Messy Christmas!
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