I know this is long. I know some of you, if you see ‘cont’d’ you dump it, but hang in there. It’s the holidays. It’s not like you have anything else going on.

Christmas is a funny time of year. It is designed to be one of the two happiest seasons for ‘Christians.’ For the rest, it’s all about family, friends, shopping, singing, sweaters, and kisses under the mistletoe. It’s to never be alone and to have someone you care about, care about you, touch you, be with you, focus on, well, you.

Christmas is also one of the highest time for suicides because all that stuff listed doesn’t happen, not the way we think and we blame each other, god, or worse—ourselves for it. People’s reality do not live up to their expectations. When you think about it, it never really does.  If we just had a better upbringing, one more break, straighter teeth, we would have made our dreams come true. Then, we can’t carry that flaw in the plan ourselves so we look around and say ‘see? its that IRA you made me invest in, that truck we bought, mother's death, or that god you made me believe in and pray chants to as a kid and he had all these expectations of me and I so lost it.' The god that punished us, had us wear tight shoes, recite versus’ to make us holy, and was always----always, disappointed in us. At least that’s what our ministers, parents, friends always told us. ‘God is so disappointed in you. He is shaking his big white wigged head. You make him so sad.’

No wonder people flee religion. They should when it teaches that.

There are just a couple of things, so stay with me. First, have a nice Christmas. Understand it will not go according to your plan. Be fluid. Be flexible. Find someone worse off and reach out and help them-but do it coolly---don’t let them know it was you when you pay their gas bill, buy them groceries, or fix something broken! This will give you a feeling like what my friend Cyrano said “…I have the heart of ten men….”

Second, when you get sad or melancholy, which I do—a lot, wait on it. Take a walk, go for a run, bike ride, talk to someone. Dogs are perfect for this. They have the perfect heart to hear all your stuff and love it when you share. They will listen to every word and even answer. Don’t go smoke a crack pipe and peyote with a gin shooter. All that does is make you throw up. Christmas is not about buying crap. The stores want us to think so, but it’s really about looking around and seeing what is there. There was a sunrise two days ago that was the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen—ever. Of course that means there is likely xylene or benzene or something in the air that will shorten your life span or at least your height, but don’t think about that. At that moment, I was glad the toxins were there. It was pretty.

Third, and hear this carefully. I believe in God. Those of you that know me, know this. You also know I don’t beat you up with it. But I want you to hear this with the image of me holding you by your shirt and looking in to your sad, depressed eyes from six inches away. Don’t worry, I Tic-Taced.

There is a God. But here is what you might not believe-he loves you just the way you are, period (insert image of me softly shaking your shirt with both hands). He knows you are screwed up, messed up, and have been so for decades, and will be for decades more—until you die. Get in line with the rest of us. You will fight to the end, that thing you have in the back of your dark closet in your mind. That issue—those issues that have dogged you, He has known since before he spun the planet.

He will wait on you.

If you want or need, he will hold you in His lap for the rest of your life, doing nothing but whispering in your ear “I have you child, I am so in love with you! Stay right here and I will rock you gently in my arms—forever.” You will dare to believe the whisper and begin to sit up, then want to stand—then want to try that bike again, forgetting about Dad and wanting to try it alone.

We run. Sometimes fully knowing we are running from whatever image we have been taught about God. Here’s the problem, He is right at our shoulder, never leaving our side. “So, where are we running to?” He says with a smile as you are trying to run your life, you’re in charge, can’t trust anyone with me, they will screw it up and only I can love me, or something like that. He doesn’t have a ‘making fun of you smile’, just a smile that alone says everything. “How is this sprint going for ya? You tired of carrying this piece of Samsonite on your back while you try to run? I gotta tell ya, that load has to be, well I don’t know if you know it but its full of bricks. Not even nice looking bricks, odd shaped ones, not much good for anything except to, well, maybe fill a hole. How’s that hole fillin’ coming? Wanna run some more? Don’t worry about me, I’m not winded yet. You look a little, well, blue. Actually, it’s kind of a purple hue you got going there. Especially right around the lips. And did you notice you peed your pants a little? Is that ringing in your ears still there? Legs, now they gotta be tired. Want to sit down? No? Okay, you say ‘when.’”

Then you run some more.

It is He who will run next to you and make sure when you do fall, oh and we all fall-=a lot, it isn’t going to destroy you. Day in, day out.

Dare to believe the God of the Universe, the one prophets and historians and theologians have written about more than any other thing in history, is actually true. Dare to believe that God is in love with you, right now, right where you are, in your dirty clothes and runny nose. In all your grossness, He sees only his child, with total, unimaginable love and perfect form.

Yeah, I know, I can’t believe it either at times.    

Merry Christmas