The Annual "Stealthy Ninja Christmas Angel" Tradition
We’ve done this the past few years and it’s a blast!
{12 Days of Christmas: As a family you pick another family or couple or single person, perhaps who has gone through a hard time or could just use encouragement, or just whoever God places on your heart. (This would be an awesome way to build a bridge with an unbelieving family in your sphere of influence!) You secretly put tiny gifts on their doorstep for the 12 days preceding Christmas (1 candle, then the next day 2 packets of hot cocoa, then the next day 3 of something, all the way to the 12th day giving them 12 of something like fresh cinnamon rolls on Christmas day).
Each day you include a verse or something encouraging that goes along with the gift.The point is not to get complicated, but just to have fun thinking creatively about one other family and encourage them from God’s Word. It’s helpful to pick someone who lives near you since you’ll need to go by their house every day for 12 days! You can reveal who you are at the end or keep it a secret, depending upon the situation. Just a little idea to spark creativity as we learn to love our neighbors and celebrate the greatest gift–the Giver Himself.}
A few years ago we chose a super-fun family (that always helps), who lived a few miles away. Christmas morning it was such a joy — we pulled up around 9am and their whole family came bounding out onto the front porch to “catch” us (we wanted to be caught at this point) and we all laughed ourselves silly recalling all the ways we’d sneaked around their house, how they’d wanted to catch us, and how they couldn’t figure out who it was. (They’d made a list of suspects!) They’d left pumpkin bread out on the porch and a note for the “Stealthy Ninja Christmas Angel.”
Last year we kept our identity a secret, but then on Christmas left them a card (along with the cinnamon rolls) with a QR code at the bottom. When they scanned the code it brought up a silly picture of our family. That was fun!
So, if you’re game for an adventure, do a bit of pre-planning, enlist the help of your family, and have fun doing a little secret-blessing this year.
You too can be a stealthy ninja Christmas angel. {Thanks, all, for reading!}
PS I know the “official” 12 days of Christmas are technically after Christmas. You get the idea. It’s more fun to end on Christmas day!
When you're just plain irritated …
There’s nothing wrong with the words, it’s just the way she says them. Write those words out in pen and ink and they’d look just fine. But why spoken into the air do they feel like little jabs? I can’t put my finger on it, but somewhere in my heart there’s a bee sting. I can feel it.
I come in out of the cold, kick off my boots and check the fire. It’s still lit but it’s cooled. I can see glowing embers down below, but the logs lay heavy on top and not much heat is coming out.
I grab the poker and remove the screen. This is my favorite part of wood-stove heat. Stoking the fire. I wield my poker and shove it deep under the logs, flip them over and poke around at the glowing embers beneath. Instantly heat rushes out, envelopes me in warmth. It’s so hot I have to put the poker down, replace the screen and sit back a bit. I lean against my old quilted pillows, close my eyes, remember these words:
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. (Hebrews 10:24)
Of course.
We know this verse, know we’re called to spur one another on, but do we understand what it means to spur?
That word, translated “spur” is paroxusmos which literally means “to irritate.” Consider: How do you spur on a horse? By nudging it with your spurs! That is, applying just enough pressure, or irritation, to get its attention and make it move.
Isn’t this how I’d just stoked the fire? By poking it. By digging, jabbing that poker down into the embers, flipping over the logs, stirring it up a bit with some strategic irritation.
Every day I partake in my beloved stoking ritual. I poke and prod and stir up warmth to keep our house heated.
To keep the fire burning.
Aren’t we supposed to do the same for each other? And truly, isn’t that what this person had done for me? I’d felt a little unnerved, a little irritated. And didn’t this stir me up a bit? Didn’t it flip over my log and expose the underside that desperately needed attention? Didn’t it turn a cold side over and let it find flame? White-hot purifying flame that burns the impurities away?
It did just that.
The problem is that I thought I loved that verse. But I don’t like the poking part. At least not in real life. Poking on the page is just fine — but poking in person? No thank you.
But if that’s the case then I don’t really love that verse. Then I don’t really understand that verse or obey that verse.
True Christian fellowship always involves irritation.
Our lives are purified by people-pokes. Dozens of them. Isn’t it the loving hand of the Father who wields the poker? And hasn’t He ordained that we would live, grow, be sanctified in community?
But all this poking is not what we had in mind when we signed up for “community” is it? In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
“He who loves his dream of community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial.”
Let’s be honest: Our dream Christian community don’t involve stokes, pokes, and irritations.
But real Christian community does. In fact, biblical Christian community does. Sure, some pokes are the result of other’s sin. But some are the sanctified spurs — one saint to another.
Do we want to be spurred? I do.
I don’t like the feel but I love the fruit.
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{Revisiting this … Who has irritated you lately? How might this have been the gentle prodding of a loving Father? How can you be spurred on toward love because of it? Perhaps I’ve irritated you? Thanks for reading, for grace, and for sanctified spurs — one saint to another.}
Why brokenness is a blessing…
“Nap time, babygirl! Come here, please.” From across the room I could see her stiffen, prepare to protest. I gave her fair-warning. “Make a good choice. Will you say ‘yes’ or ‘no” to Mama?” There was no need to remind her of what a ‘no’ response would earn. She knows.
She stiffly, and slowly, walked over to me. Her mouth said yes and she made her feet move, but her face and demeanor were “no-ing” all the way. I picked her up, took her to the potty, and told her to go before her nap. She sat down, didn’t go, said she was done.
Outwardly obedient but deep-down defiant.
I took her into her room for the rest-time routine. Rock, snuggle, sleep. I pulled her up on my lap in the rocking chair, but she pushed away. Again, silent, but stiff as a board and at arm’s length. I carried her over, crawled under the quilt at her side. She lay still for a moment, then a mischievous look came across her face.
“I need go potty.” I knew it. Kids will use anything to control. To defy. I was choosing this battle and wouldn’t lose. She’s beautiful, but manipulation is not a beautiful quality when it’s all grown up. I kissed her cheek and looked her in the eye.
“No. Mommy already told you to go and you didn’t. You’re not getting back up.” She fussed again, insisted she has to go, begins to pitch a fit. I think to myself how I don’t want to change wet sheets.
But I’ll change her sheets in order to change her heart.
“No.”
Her eyes widen as she realizes it’s a lost cause. She can’t win because I won’t budge. And almost visibly, right before my eyes, I can see the cracks, then the crumble. I can see her break.
She’s broken. She sobs.
And almost in the same breath-sob she reaches both arms out, wraps them around my neck.
She clings hard, pulls me close, and cries,
“Mama, I wan’ keep you.”
She wants to keep me. These are the words she uses at night when she longs for me to linger. She squeezes me tight round the neck and holds on, says she wants to keep me. Won’t let me go.
I, of course, don’t pull away.
I draw her even closer into my arms.
She’s soft. Pliable. She rests, relaxed in my arms. I hold her, my arms all the way around her little body as she rests in her bed. Even though I’m crouched over, quads burning, I stay there, my head on the pillow next to hers, kissing her cheeks.
Within two minutes she’s sound asleep.
That’s me, I think. That’s me.
Why often do I stiffen, proud? Willing my feet and mouth to say yes to God but protesting no within my heart? Every time I choose myself, my own way, I push Him away, hold Him at arm’s length. He seeks to rock me gently, I stiffen and push Him away. He draws near to hold me. I talk to Him perhaps but my prayer is still just grasping for control. But then something jolts, cracks, crumbles.
This is how we break. This is why brokenness is a blessing.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Ps. 51:17)
Of course He won’t! Of course He never will. The same way that I hold my broken-spirit daughter, envelope her completely, engulfed in my love until she falls sweetly asleep. Until she rests in my love.
Why do we push Him away? Our pride, the God-repellent, it stiffens within us, incites us to rebellion, but we must make it bow. Must make our feet and mouths and hearts say “yes” to God.
Then, no matter how far away He feels, He will envelope us in His love and let us rest secure. And resting secure we discover the truth:
Brokenness is the only path to wholeness.
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{Remembering this from last year. Praying blessed brokenness–and wholeness–for you and me this week. Can you let go and rest in His arms? He loves you so!! Thank you for reading.}