Making Your Christmas About What Jesus' Christmas Was About:
An Intentional Christmas

Christmas 2012 comes against the backdrop of a world much like that of the First Christmas - lots of upheaval, violence, and fear. A near war in the Middle East - with that area getting more and more dangerous; sparks of a second Egypt revolution; political uncertainty and paralysis; the fast approach of a game-changing "fiscal cliff."

March 27th, 2012

So I went into the gas station to prepay for a fillup and suddenly found myself in Crazyville. A long line in this small town store, all talking about what they'd do if they won. Yes, I had inadvertently walked into the Lottery Fever ward. Just like me, everyone had cash in their hand. Except I was the only one who was buying gas. Did I mention crazy?

All over the news, folks were talking about their dreams for how they'd spend this record-breaking, $600 million-plus jackpot. Even though the odds of winning were 1 in 176 million! I didn't buy a ticket. But as I saw my fillup total, I got to thinking that I might have to win the lottery just to buy my gas.

I slept in on Black Friday, thank you. And felt smugly smart as I watched the buffalo stampedes on the news. Of course, so did those people leaving with a "you can't believe the price" flatscreen TV.

As I ventured into an eerily quiet "big box" store later in the day, I asked the clerk if she was getting combat pay. She just gave me a look that said, "You have no idea, buster." Watching the evening news reports of charging consumer armies, I mumbled to myself, "Peace on earth, huh?"

It's been a week for bombshells. One of America's most revered military leaders - and, most recently, head of the super-secret CIA - has resigned because of an admitted affair. For all the secrets of his agency, his personal secret has exploded into headlines around the world.

I just groaned when I heard about these sordid revelations. I hate to see another hero fall - and another family ravaged. And as I write, questions are arising around another of this country's top military leaders. Sadly, it doesn't take me long to remember other "generals" whose secrets have blown their world apart - including high-powered politicians and even preachers.

But with the current scandal spotlight turned on military leaders, my mind raced to another general with a dark secret. And even though his exploits were in a different time, his story is the story of so many guys.

I've done it again. Managed to head right into a storm.

Like the family vacation slammed by a hurricane. The record rainstorm that swamped the airport when we took our daughter to college. And the Halloween "Snowageddon" that met me in Connecticut last year. And now Sandy.

Actually, being a part of this "week like no other" in New York and New Jersey has had God-marks all over it. It shut down some ministry opportunities, but clearly opened up others. And, honestly, to see in the storm some lessons that I'll carry with me for years to come.

So an angry girl named Sandy comes storming up the Eastern Seaboard - the largest Atlantic hurricane ever. Sort of like last year's Halloween snowstorm that dumped a crazy two feet of snow on Connecticut. Where I just happened to be. And Sandy's doing this year what "Snowy" did last year - make a whole lot of folks change their plans.

Planes aren't flying and trips aren't happening. Gazillions of "important" meetings and appointments have been cancelled. The Stock Exchange and the U. N. have bowed to Miss Sandy. She's even pushed Barack and Mitt off center stage - and cancelled potentially decisive campaign events in the final week of a nail-bitingly close election.

Yup, storms change your plans. Suddenly, you have no control over events. But then, do we ever have control over events? When you consider that God decides if we take our next breath, our fiercely defended "control" of our lives is really just the illusion of control.

Ah, yes...our quadrennial binge on politics. Dueling ads, wall-to-wall, made in Mudville. Debates - followed by debates about the debates. Pundits punditizing everywhere, day and night. So many polls that we even have a poll of the polls.

And lots of angry, opinionated people. On Facebook...on the Internet...on the streets...on talk radio...in the office...even in families. Lots of people, very emotional about this election - and speaking out.

I'm not one of them. Oh, I care. I've always followed American politics with interest. But I won't be sounding off about what I think.

Sure, a lot of people were watching the Presidential debate this week. But not everybody. There were quite a few folks watching men with caps swing a stick at a speeding white ball.

Even though it was the last day of the regular baseball season, there were still some decisive games being played. One of which gave my Yankees (hold the booing - I can't hear it) the division championship.

But in the midst of some of the cliffhanger baseball dramas being played out this week, there was another baseball story that captured my attention. About one guy's one time at-bat.

Seven years ago, in his first Major League at-bat, 24-year-old Adam Greenberg was struck in the head by a 92-mile-per-hour fastball. He was left with migraine-like symptoms and numerous other complications. End of a dream. Except somebody forgot to tell Adam it was over. He was determined to fight his way back - if only some team would give him a chance.

I've been to a few professional football games in my life. And some people are angry. It's usually aimed at the other team or their own players who messed up. But these days the words that make you blush are reserved for the referees. The replacement referees, that is.

The regular National Football League officials have been locked out by the owners over a salary dispute. So the guys making the calls are rookies in the NFL universe. And accusations are flying that they're missing all kinds of penalties and making some bad calls on key plays.

Who ever thought up cellphone cameras? Sure, they're nice if something suddenly pops up that you want to capture. But how many times have I been looking goofy or plain ol' ugly and some smart aleck quietly "permanentizes" the moment with his cute little camera?

Is there nowhere we're safe from the lens that never forgets?