Faith doesn't depend on facts and evidence. If it did, it wouldn't be faith.
Faith is the decision to put our trust and hope in Something that might not make any sense to our reasoning at all.
If we say we have faith, but constantly look for the proof and the evidence, aren't we deceiving ourselves?
Sure, while we walk in our faith, we might bump into these signs of proof and confirmation along the way. But if we don't have them, we still have faith.
Why don't we just do what faith requires? Why don't we just choose to lean our entire weight into the arms of Something we can't fully understand, and there let go of all our striving and our fear?
We could be wrong. We might all be up a gum-tree. But life without faith would be life without hope, and life without hope would be like the sea without a horizon.
Faith gives us freedom to hope, freedom to be right and freedom to be wrong.
Faith gives meaning and purpose to life, when facts and reasoning do nothing to null the emptiness inside, or meet our deepest longings, or give us hope when we're surrounded by the darkness of our pain and fears.
Faith makes us vulnerable, but it also gives us wings to fly when the engine of our own resources breaks down.
Faith. It's wild, unreasonable and makes no sense at all.
But I wouldn't be without it.
Thursday, 27 March 2014
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
The Rants of a Curvy Girl
This blog article is meant to be about body-image and the effect of today's culture on women's self-perception and the concept of beauty. Maybe it'll come across as a curvy girl ranting about skinny women because she would rather look like them and never will. Maybe I do feel like that, but if I do it's only because modern-day culture has embedded this lie in my head, this lie that I unless I don't have an ounce of fat anywhere, I'm just not good enough.
I know heaps and heaps of girls who feel the same way I do. We all go through the similar kind of suffering. First of all there's the endless envy, comparing, and judging. We might feel jealous of girls who seem to be born with a natural 'perfect figure', and yet when we're with someone larger we somehow feel as though we have 'one-up' on them because at least we're slimmer than they are. We moan about skinny models and actresses and yet we cast haughty glances at larger women in public transport. We wallow in our self-pity that we will never be as beautiful as such a girl, and comfort ourselves with the thought that at least there are those who are worse. It's just simply pride, putting others down to feel better about ourselves. And at the end of the day, wouldn't you say that this is really all what it's about? Women only finding their self-worth in their appearance. It's a desperate climb towards that destination of physical perfection. A destination which for most proves to be utterly unattainable.
Culture and media do so much to convince us that we need to reach that eutopia of physical perfection. They tell us that if we do, we will be perfectly loved, no longer lonely, and always feel wonderful about ourselves. Perhaps we forget that how we feel about ourselves goes much deeper than our appearance. That some of the richest or most attractive people are in fact the most lonely (take the incident of the recent suicide of the actress and model Gia Allemand for example), and our culture is chalk-full of failed relationships between the beautiful and not-so-beautiful alike. Society around us tells us that men will be more attracted to us if we look like the super-models and actresses. But just take a look at this article: http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/201206/eternal-curves. It demonstrates that a majority of men will feel more attracted to women with a waist size that is 60 to 70 percent of their hip size (i.e. they have a curvier shape).
Just think of all the money that is made through the continuous lie that all women must be very slim to be attractive. All the pills, dietary foods, fitness clubs, books, cellulite creams... I could go on and on listing all the products that we can spend so much of our money on just so we can look like we should (according to popular culture). Not to mention all the make-up and hair colouring and clothes we have to buy to complete the look of a stereotypically beautiful woman.
Now some women love sport, and that's great. But some women spend hours doing what they loathe (sacrificing time they could be spend with their families or things which would make them a lot happier) just so they can drop a dress-size or a few pounds. I like what Adele has to say on on this subject:
''I love food and hate exercise. I don't have time to work out... I don't want to be on the cover of Playboy or Vogue. I want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone or Q. I'm not a trend-setter... I'm a singer... I'd rather weigh a ton and make an amazing album than look like Nicole Richie and do a shit album. My aim in life is never to be skinny.''
It's obvious that she hasn't let what popular culture determines a popular singer should be like to deter her career. She has a unique voice, a unique style of music, and she is confident in who she is. This is the kind of person the media should be praising, not the actress who has managed to drop from a size 6 to a size 2 by eating only lettuce.
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Today Marlyn Monroe would be considered 'plus-sized' as she was a size 14. A model today is usually of an average size 4.
Many women are not satisfied with their own body-types, myself included. It takes a great deal of courage and self-acceptance to slip out of the mould society wants to fit you into and not let the media and society effect your perception of body-image.
In the end, what does it really matter? We don't want to be loved for what we look like or don't, but for who we are. And society's obsession with the ideal woman causes us to be side-tracked from the real problems around us like injustice, poverty, opression, greed...
If we were to stop comparing and judging just for one second, maybe we'd see the suffering little girl behind the perfect body, or the woman who can't stop eating because she feels so alone.
I think we've forgotten too that love is so much more than lust.
I'd love to hear any thoughts on this.
I know heaps and heaps of girls who feel the same way I do. We all go through the similar kind of suffering. First of all there's the endless envy, comparing, and judging. We might feel jealous of girls who seem to be born with a natural 'perfect figure', and yet when we're with someone larger we somehow feel as though we have 'one-up' on them because at least we're slimmer than they are. We moan about skinny models and actresses and yet we cast haughty glances at larger women in public transport. We wallow in our self-pity that we will never be as beautiful as such a girl, and comfort ourselves with the thought that at least there are those who are worse. It's just simply pride, putting others down to feel better about ourselves. And at the end of the day, wouldn't you say that this is really all what it's about? Women only finding their self-worth in their appearance. It's a desperate climb towards that destination of physical perfection. A destination which for most proves to be utterly unattainable.
Culture and media do so much to convince us that we need to reach that eutopia of physical perfection. They tell us that if we do, we will be perfectly loved, no longer lonely, and always feel wonderful about ourselves. Perhaps we forget that how we feel about ourselves goes much deeper than our appearance. That some of the richest or most attractive people are in fact the most lonely (take the incident of the recent suicide of the actress and model Gia Allemand for example), and our culture is chalk-full of failed relationships between the beautiful and not-so-beautiful alike. Society around us tells us that men will be more attracted to us if we look like the super-models and actresses. But just take a look at this article: http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/201206/eternal-curves. It demonstrates that a majority of men will feel more attracted to women with a waist size that is 60 to 70 percent of their hip size (i.e. they have a curvier shape).
Just think of all the money that is made through the continuous lie that all women must be very slim to be attractive. All the pills, dietary foods, fitness clubs, books, cellulite creams... I could go on and on listing all the products that we can spend so much of our money on just so we can look like we should (according to popular culture). Not to mention all the make-up and hair colouring and clothes we have to buy to complete the look of a stereotypically beautiful woman.
Now some women love sport, and that's great. But some women spend hours doing what they loathe (sacrificing time they could be spend with their families or things which would make them a lot happier) just so they can drop a dress-size or a few pounds. I like what Adele has to say on on this subject:
''I love food and hate exercise. I don't have time to work out... I don't want to be on the cover of Playboy or Vogue. I want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone or Q. I'm not a trend-setter... I'm a singer... I'd rather weigh a ton and make an amazing album than look like Nicole Richie and do a shit album. My aim in life is never to be skinny.''
It's obvious that she hasn't let what popular culture determines a popular singer should be like to deter her career. She has a unique voice, a unique style of music, and she is confident in who she is. This is the kind of person the media should be praising, not the actress who has managed to drop from a size 6 to a size 2 by eating only lettuce.
It seems that popular culture has not always defined feminine beauty in the way it does today. Just look at this painting known as 'The Three Graces' by Peter Paul Rubens.
I'm sure that, like me, you are thinking that these women are not blessed with beautiful bottoms. However I'm sure that many of you readers can relate better to their bottoms than to the bottom of Pippa Middleton, for example. The reason we think like this is that culture has taught us what is beautiful and what is not. Back when these women were painted, in 1635, the 'rubenesque' body-type was actually the fashion. The 'extra pounds' carried were a sign of wealth, health and beauty. Nowadays, for these women to be seen as typically beautiful, they would have to slim down and tone up. Back in their day, a skinnier body-type would have been seen as lacking. See how culture has fashioned us to think the way we do!
Biology shows us that women are meant to have wider hips than men for the simple reason that they have to push out babies. Our modern-day annorexia-inducing society can even cause problems in menstraution and fertility -on top of all the pyschological and emotional damage- as a very skinny woman may stop menstruating all together. How sad that our society is putting beauty before health.
We don't even have to go so far back into history to see that our concept of beauty has changed. The famous Italian actress Sophia Loren from the 1950's and 60's, as well as the actress, model and singer Marlyn Monroe from just a little before Loren's time, were considered exceptionally beautiful women.
Today Marlyn Monroe would be considered 'plus-sized' as she was a size 14. A model today is usually of an average size 4.
Many women are not satisfied with their own body-types, myself included. It takes a great deal of courage and self-acceptance to slip out of the mould society wants to fit you into and not let the media and society effect your perception of body-image.
In the end, what does it really matter? We don't want to be loved for what we look like or don't, but for who we are. And society's obsession with the ideal woman causes us to be side-tracked from the real problems around us like injustice, poverty, opression, greed...
If we were to stop comparing and judging just for one second, maybe we'd see the suffering little girl behind the perfect body, or the woman who can't stop eating because she feels so alone.
I think we've forgotten too that love is so much more than lust.
I'd love to hear any thoughts on this.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
The Titanic, Suffering and Other Thoughts
Last night I saw 'Titanic' for the first time in ages with Max. I'd forgotten how heart-wrenching it is and needless to say I cried so many tears that I'm sure my tear-reservoir must be completely dry now. However, while being moved by the pain and beauty of the film and the reality of the event it's based on, my mind also decided to do a little philosophising. Or theology...ing, whichever word fits better in the context!
I began to think about all the tragic things that go and have gone on in the world. So much suffering, death and injustice. Over 1000 people alone died when the Titanic sunk. So many lives would have been affected by it, both directly and indirectly. Then just skip ahead a couple of decades and you have the World Wars, whose devastation cannot begin to be described or comprehended. Through these events alone humankind has been subjected to unbearable suffering, great injustice, so much death and grief. It's no wonder we wonder, why?
As a believer, it can be hard to marry the belief that God is loving and good with the idea that He is all powerful and all-knowing, when it seems as though he has allowed so much evil to over-run the people He loves. I don't claim to have many answers at all. I don't think anyone ever will have all the answers, and that's one of the reasons why faith is faith, because it's what you choose to do with all your questions and doubts and fears that matters. You can either trust that God is loving and good, and hang everything on that, or allow the doubts to cloud your faith.
Recently something happened which got me thinking about this, at least a week before watching 'Titanic'. My wonderful boyfriend, the sweetest and most un-violent looking man that you've ever seen, got beaten up by two men for no reason. He was quite badly injured, although not seriously thank God. We were both very shaken by the incident, as I'm sure you can imagine, and his face will take some time to recover. Things we've taken from the experience are the realisation that injustice and pure evil are very much alive and well in our world, but also that these incidents can do a lot to bring you closer together as a couple, and to grow your faith in God; which almost seems like an oxymoron, as it's also during these times that you can have the most doubts and questions.
This is one of the only answers I can give, personally, to the 'Why does God allow suffering?' question. I've always known a special comfort during the hardest times in my life- a knowledge that God is with me and that He loves me. Perhaps instead of asking 'why?' during these times, we could be asking 'where?', and realise that the answer is, right here! We don't suffer alone because God is with us and can give us 'peace that passes all understanding''' (Phillipians 4:7), hope for our future, and faith to believe that good can come out of anything. Personally I don't believe that God causes suffering, but that He can use it to our advantage, or turn it around for good. And I think that like it or not, we often come out stronger at the end, ready to take on new challenges in our lives, or help other people through similar difficulties which they might have to go through.
Also, those who believe in God also believe that in the end ''God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4) Suffering and even death aren't the end of the story, because one day we'll go to be with God where there'll be no more sorrow, or crying, or violence or injustice.
In 'Titanic', one of the most touching moments for me is when the orchestra starts to play the beautiful hymn 'Nearer my God to Thee'. They decide not to attempt escaping like hundreds of others by fighting for places in the few lifeboats, but to go down with the ship. All throughout their last moments they're playing this song which would have reminded them that they were just a step away from being with God who'd take away all the sorrow and suffering they'd ever experienced in their lives. And I'm sure that like many of us have already experienced in our own lives, they were finding that they felt God so close to them right there and then, as he is to everyone who is ever suffering or broken-hearted (Psalm 34:18).
I began to think about all the tragic things that go and have gone on in the world. So much suffering, death and injustice. Over 1000 people alone died when the Titanic sunk. So many lives would have been affected by it, both directly and indirectly. Then just skip ahead a couple of decades and you have the World Wars, whose devastation cannot begin to be described or comprehended. Through these events alone humankind has been subjected to unbearable suffering, great injustice, so much death and grief. It's no wonder we wonder, why?
As a believer, it can be hard to marry the belief that God is loving and good with the idea that He is all powerful and all-knowing, when it seems as though he has allowed so much evil to over-run the people He loves. I don't claim to have many answers at all. I don't think anyone ever will have all the answers, and that's one of the reasons why faith is faith, because it's what you choose to do with all your questions and doubts and fears that matters. You can either trust that God is loving and good, and hang everything on that, or allow the doubts to cloud your faith.
Recently something happened which got me thinking about this, at least a week before watching 'Titanic'. My wonderful boyfriend, the sweetest and most un-violent looking man that you've ever seen, got beaten up by two men for no reason. He was quite badly injured, although not seriously thank God. We were both very shaken by the incident, as I'm sure you can imagine, and his face will take some time to recover. Things we've taken from the experience are the realisation that injustice and pure evil are very much alive and well in our world, but also that these incidents can do a lot to bring you closer together as a couple, and to grow your faith in God; which almost seems like an oxymoron, as it's also during these times that you can have the most doubts and questions.
This is one of the only answers I can give, personally, to the 'Why does God allow suffering?' question. I've always known a special comfort during the hardest times in my life- a knowledge that God is with me and that He loves me. Perhaps instead of asking 'why?' during these times, we could be asking 'where?', and realise that the answer is, right here! We don't suffer alone because God is with us and can give us 'peace that passes all understanding''' (Phillipians 4:7), hope for our future, and faith to believe that good can come out of anything. Personally I don't believe that God causes suffering, but that He can use it to our advantage, or turn it around for good. And I think that like it or not, we often come out stronger at the end, ready to take on new challenges in our lives, or help other people through similar difficulties which they might have to go through.
Also, those who believe in God also believe that in the end ''God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4) Suffering and even death aren't the end of the story, because one day we'll go to be with God where there'll be no more sorrow, or crying, or violence or injustice.
In 'Titanic', one of the most touching moments for me is when the orchestra starts to play the beautiful hymn 'Nearer my God to Thee'. They decide not to attempt escaping like hundreds of others by fighting for places in the few lifeboats, but to go down with the ship. All throughout their last moments they're playing this song which would have reminded them that they were just a step away from being with God who'd take away all the sorrow and suffering they'd ever experienced in their lives. And I'm sure that like many of us have already experienced in our own lives, they were finding that they felt God so close to them right there and then, as he is to everyone who is ever suffering or broken-hearted (Psalm 34:18).
Wednesday, 17 July 2013
Yummy Yummy Home-Made Quiche
Wow. I can't believe that I, celui who failed her home-economics class not once but TWICE in S2 (second of year of secondary/high-school education in Scotland) and who often causes so much hilarity and fear in the kitchen, is blogging about recipes. But I'm going to suggest that leopards CAN change their spots. With a bit of creativity, and a strong desire to succeed, someone who was probably born without the cooking gene (they apparently all went into my sister who's baking is unbelievable) can become someone who LOVES cooking, who can cook-up (pardon the pun!) interesting, different and even tasty dishes, and nobody who has tried them has yet landed up in hospital.
So, here's a recipe I've concocted over time to make a delicious, home-made, French-style quiche. Absolutely loaded with calories, but so delicious and filling, and great served with a big salad. To make it, you will need:
So, here's a recipe I've concocted over time to make a delicious, home-made, French-style quiche. Absolutely loaded with calories, but so delicious and filling, and great served with a big salad. To make it, you will need:
- 1/2 cup olive oil
- 1/2 cup water
- a packet of levure chemique (you only get this in France I'm afraid; perhaps it could be adapted to baking powder or soda; yet to be tested!)
- flour
- 3 eggs
- 2 natural soya yoghurts
- a packet of chorizo slices
- grated cheese
- salt and pepper to season.
Method
In a big bowl, mix together the oil, water, levure chemique and salt and pepper. Then slowly add flour until it becomes a thick, doughy consistancy. Put into the fridge until it has a risen un tout petit peu.
Meanwhile, crack the eggs into another bowl and stir in the soya yoghurt, some more salt and pepper, and quite a lot of grated cheese.
Line a quiche dish (or round baking tray) with grease-proof paper. If you don''t have baking paper, smear the dish with butter and sprinkle flour over it. Roll out the dough until it's about 1cm thick. Press it into the baking tray and make sure to press it a little up the sides. Bake this in the oven for about 10mins at 200 degrees Celsius.
Lower the heat in the oven to about 180 degrees. Take out the quiche base and place about 5 slices of chorizo to cover the bottom. Then pour in the eggy mixture. Finally, arrange the remaining chorizo on top and put back into the oven for about 10/15 mins.
Serve with more cheese.
Next time I make it, I'll try and remember to take a picture and I will add it to this post. Et voila, it's simple, tasty, and works. Even for 'work'-in-progress-cooks' like myself.
:)
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
All the Funny Things Kids Say
I need to start blogging about these. Enjoy!
"J'ai quelques prières en anglais parce que Jésus est anglaise."
"Il faut pas manger trop de gâteau parce que si tu manges trop de gâteau tu auras un bébé dans ta ventre."
-"Je ne comprends pas un seul mot qu'elle dit."
-"C'est normale! Il faut apprendre l'allemand!"
I'll add to this list when I remember things or after I hear them :).
"J'ai quelques prières en anglais parce que Jésus est anglaise."
"Il faut pas manger trop de gâteau parce que si tu manges trop de gâteau tu auras un bébé dans ta ventre."
-"Je ne comprends pas un seul mot qu'elle dit."
-"C'est normale! Il faut apprendre l'allemand!"
I'll add to this list when I remember things or after I hear them :).
Saturday, 9 March 2013
Adjusting your Point of View
I haven't updated my blog for a while due to the busyness of life, but a series of recent events has got me thinking about the power of our attitude and how we choose to view the things that happen to us.
Shame and embarassment are very interesting emotions. Sometimes I feel as though I've reached rock-bottom in terms of my level of self-embarassment. For those of you who know me, I can do very clumsy and embarassing things which fortunately tend to entertain rather than repel my friends away. For example, my housemates have the joyous opportunity of witnessing the breakage of many household objects and appliances. Perhaps 'many' is too strong a quantifier, but I certainly have broken a few. First of all there's the microwave I witnessed expulsing yellow fumes after attempting to heat up my brownie inside. Then there's the chopping board I melted a big hole in the middle of. Not to mention the plates I've cracked or the mug handles I've broken off. It's amazing the unconditional love my housemates have for me. I hope Santa will be very good to them this year.
Since I always seem to be breaking things, or tripping over things, or tripping over tree roots on my way to fancy Valentine's Day dinners and beautifully grazing my knee through my beautiful Valentine's Day tights, or using inappropriate words without realising their connotations (in both languages), I felt as though I must have been purged of all my shame and embarassment. That is, until yesterday happened.
Yesterday is like a blur. All I remember is the flash of colleague breaking into the toilet cubicle as I was perched inside, minding my own business. I was at work and had innocently gone to the teacher's toilet during interval. Extreme tiredness had obviously heightened by acute sense of headlessness as I had forgotten to turn the key which locks the door. In my opinion, there is not much which is more embarassing than having a senior colleague see you in that subservient state of being. I realised that I certainly wasn't immune to feelings of shame and embarassment. Those emotions boiled away inside, pulpifying my inner organs into mush, along with my spirit and soul. I wanted to run away. I wondered how I was going to redeem myself in her estimation. Even worse; I would have to face her again straight away as I was about to go to her class to teach their 'atelier d'anglais.' I phoned one of my closest friends and ended up speaking to her boyfriend about my terrible ordeal. Having off-loaded it onto someone outwith the situation, I battled inside over what I was going to say to her when I saw her. "It wasn't me," or, "The dog ate it," didn't seem like appropriate excuses in this situation. Instead, I decided to turn it into a massive source of amusement for all concerned. I would laugh it off. So when the teacher entered, I smiled, laughed, apologised, and she smiled and laughed and assured me that I would never forget to lock the toilet again. I think she can hardly know me at all. I'm sure it will happen again, at least once in my life. And I will have to experience this same level of shame and embarassment.
However, I feel as though there has been a vital lesson to learn from this experience. It has been both humbling and edifying. First of all, I will take extra caution at St Aignan to turn the key in the door before I presume the door is locked. Also, I have learnt that no matter how low you fall, you can still fall lower. You can always be more embarassing. Embarassment is good for the soul because it humbles you. The things which I do which embarass myself are good for other people because they entertain and amuse. Also, I once heard that when you are able to laugh at yourself, you can consider yourself a fully-grown adult. Uh-oh, guess that means I'm an adult. When did THAT happen??
Shame and embarassment are very interesting emotions. Sometimes I feel as though I've reached rock-bottom in terms of my level of self-embarassment. For those of you who know me, I can do very clumsy and embarassing things which fortunately tend to entertain rather than repel my friends away. For example, my housemates have the joyous opportunity of witnessing the breakage of many household objects and appliances. Perhaps 'many' is too strong a quantifier, but I certainly have broken a few. First of all there's the microwave I witnessed expulsing yellow fumes after attempting to heat up my brownie inside. Then there's the chopping board I melted a big hole in the middle of. Not to mention the plates I've cracked or the mug handles I've broken off. It's amazing the unconditional love my housemates have for me. I hope Santa will be very good to them this year.
Since I always seem to be breaking things, or tripping over things, or tripping over tree roots on my way to fancy Valentine's Day dinners and beautifully grazing my knee through my beautiful Valentine's Day tights, or using inappropriate words without realising their connotations (in both languages), I felt as though I must have been purged of all my shame and embarassment. That is, until yesterday happened.
Yesterday is like a blur. All I remember is the flash of colleague breaking into the toilet cubicle as I was perched inside, minding my own business. I was at work and had innocently gone to the teacher's toilet during interval. Extreme tiredness had obviously heightened by acute sense of headlessness as I had forgotten to turn the key which locks the door. In my opinion, there is not much which is more embarassing than having a senior colleague see you in that subservient state of being. I realised that I certainly wasn't immune to feelings of shame and embarassment. Those emotions boiled away inside, pulpifying my inner organs into mush, along with my spirit and soul. I wanted to run away. I wondered how I was going to redeem myself in her estimation. Even worse; I would have to face her again straight away as I was about to go to her class to teach their 'atelier d'anglais.' I phoned one of my closest friends and ended up speaking to her boyfriend about my terrible ordeal. Having off-loaded it onto someone outwith the situation, I battled inside over what I was going to say to her when I saw her. "It wasn't me," or, "The dog ate it," didn't seem like appropriate excuses in this situation. Instead, I decided to turn it into a massive source of amusement for all concerned. I would laugh it off. So when the teacher entered, I smiled, laughed, apologised, and she smiled and laughed and assured me that I would never forget to lock the toilet again. I think she can hardly know me at all. I'm sure it will happen again, at least once in my life. And I will have to experience this same level of shame and embarassment.
However, I feel as though there has been a vital lesson to learn from this experience. It has been both humbling and edifying. First of all, I will take extra caution at St Aignan to turn the key in the door before I presume the door is locked. Also, I have learnt that no matter how low you fall, you can still fall lower. You can always be more embarassing. Embarassment is good for the soul because it humbles you. The things which I do which embarass myself are good for other people because they entertain and amuse. Also, I once heard that when you are able to laugh at yourself, you can consider yourself a fully-grown adult. Uh-oh, guess that means I'm an adult. When did THAT happen??
Monday, 3 December 2012
All the Faf of the Season
This post is certainly not intended to sound 'bah-humbug-ish' as I would be the last person to rule out Christmas from our calendars. In fact, I would go as far as to say that Christmas is my favourite time of the year. I love the pretty lights, the dark evenings, the crisp, beautiful mornings, the anticipation of a wonderful time spent with family and friends, the Christmas plays, the Christmas songs, and more than anything, that peaceful, joyful hope in something greater than all that; the true meaning of Christmas; Jesus.
It's been said over and over again, but when it comes down to it, what is Christmas really all about? Is it about getting all the things we want? Is it even about giving all the things others want to receive? Sure it's about loving. It's about doing sweet things for others, paying extra attention to the needs around us, spending time with people that we might not get to see at other times of the year, but why? Why can we feel that bit more loved at Christmas, that bit more willing to love everyone, a contentment deep inside us, and that special something in the atmosphere that let's us know Christmas is approaching?
It's simple, but the story behind Christmas is very simple too. God loves us and sent His Son into the world to save us. End of story. To me, it seems so simple and so wonderful. So why all this faf around Christmas now? This hyperactive running around trying to buy Christmas presents for everyone, his wife and his wife's uncle's dog, the buying and sending of Christmas cards, the preparing for the Christmas dinner which somehow seems to begin at the end of November (even though the meal will essentially only last for a few hours), the search for the perfect Christmas party-dress, the dieting to make sure you look good in that perfect Christmas party-dress, and of course all the parties and dinners and social events leading up to it...
In small doses, these things are good and fun. But when you lump them all together and take out the essential element- the true meaning- then it's all just a load of needless stress, pain and often disappointment.
I've been thinking a bit about the exchanging of presents at Christmas. Why do we do it? Why put so much pressure on our friends family and ourselves to carry out this tradition which drains our finances and further clutters up our houses? I don't know much about the history behind the traditions we practice at Christmas, but I'm sure the exchanging of gifts has something to do with symbolising the Greatest Gift- God's gift of His Son- and maybe to also represent the special gifts which were given to Jesus by the Maggai in the Christmas story. However now it seems to be for many the only point of Chistmas; asking for and getting the things we want and didn't get during the year. Christmas has suddenly become about us and what we want, not about God and His love.
I like getting gifts, don't get me wrong. And I can enjoy giving them, too. But going into town at this time of year just about drives me nuts. It would be a more pleasant experience if everyone wore a smile on their faces instead of rushing around with their armfuls of bags, resolution on their faces and that glint in their eye which says, "If you get in the way between me and that handbag my sister wants, I'll hit you over the head with it." Sure it's nice to hear the Christmas music playing in the shops and to smell the mulled wine in the air, but to feel like part of a buffallo herd running away from a bush-fire in a shopping centre is not a pleasant experience (that's how I often feel in a mall around about Christmas time). Neither do I like the struggle with myself as I wonder, "Is what I've got them enough?" Do they need a present or if I 'conveniently forget' them in terms of gift-endowing, will they be less of my friend next year?
It seems so silly, but there seems to be so much value put into the value of the gifts we exchange now. Why on earth would we fork out and buy our sibling who already has an ipad4 and ipad5 for their Christmas, when there's a kid on the street who won't even get a bar of chocolate? We don't need an ipad5 for goodness' sakes! Maybe we want it, but we can live without it. And people can't live without kindness or purpose; two things which seem to often go out of the window at this time of year.
I haven't decided whether to do this yet, but I have wondered, if we were to just get the people we loved a very small gift; something to demonstrate that we have thought of them, even if it's just a promise to call or a nice note in a card; and put more money and thought into the poorer of our society, what could Christmas become? A real season of sharing and of love, I'd imagine.. We might start to get back to the basics and remember what it's all about.
Or maybe we should just stop completely with the gift-hunting and exchanging. Maybe we should just relax, enjoy advent, think about what it means to us and stop letting the pressure that society puts on us destroy the season for ourselves and those around us! It's meant to be a time of joy. Maybe we need to do whatever it takes to bring the joy back into Christmas, even if it means turning the way we've always done it on its head.
*All views expressed in this blog entry are entirely my own and not necessarily to be taken seriously.
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