Searching Christmas Peace

I've never gone to Starbucks on Christmas Eve morning until today, but I think it might be the start of a great holiday tradition. That is, if coffee prices and profits regain lost ground on the New York Stock Exchange so the doors to this modern-day temple can remain open. It's here where I feel trendy, hip, and pretty cool for a 48-year-old. It's here where I've worked on many a sermon. It's here where I've robbed my children of their inheritance, but it's at Starbucks that I was able to gain a little perspective and write just a bit on this very special holiday...

Navigating the over-stimulated and over-marketed days between Black Friday and today, I have searched for something that most people look for this time of year --- whether they know it or not. Peace. Of course this elusive commodity is useful year round, but there's something about the lack of it during December that heightens it's value and increases the intensity of the search.

During this yuletide exploration, I went to the malls... a couple times. On one occasion, I sat in one of the graciously provided God-couches located just outside my wife's favorite retail refuge. Why are those darn comfy high backs so... comfy... in the middle of mall madness? It's amazing how uninhibited one becomes to take an immodest, mouth-wide-open, public nap while hundreds of people walk by and gawk. All because those comfy mall couches are so... comfy.

My comfy-ness was suddenly interrupted by a screaming, two-year old, female, out-of-control hell child who was demanding to eat pizza in the food court. The obviously exasperated mother was tending to her stroller-bound newborn, while giving looks to kill at her about-to-be-adopted daughter who WAS actually teetering on the brink of death. My temporary comfy peace had left as quickly as it had been found. I moved on.

A long, reflective walk through the hallowed halls of retail might prove effective. My wife and kids had abandoned me to subversively shop for family names they had secretly drawn. It was incredibly telling how my pulse began to race as the sale banners were beckoning to save 30, 40, even 70% on already low prices. Shallow soul stirrings began to conflict and contradict. It felt like if I didn't purchase, I was sealing my own financially disastrous fate. Those marketers really are good, aren't they?

Resisting obligatory purchases was made possible because my search was not for the greatest sale ever, but rather for something of greater value and unworthy of any deceptive, redlined price tag. Instead, I decided to check in to the Christian bookstore. I was confident there was peace to be found there. After all, any place that houses Swindoll, Lucado, Michael W., Mrs. Moore, and the infamous and tasty Testa-mints, must house God himself and subsequent peace, right? Wrong...

The same stress and tension I felt at the mall was here. In fact, it might have been even worse. The Christian bookstore made me feel like a complete, spiritual zero. If I didn't have their ordained artwork hung on my walls, could I really be the witness Jesus needed me to be? If I didn't wear the prominently displayed Jesus billboard t-shirts (I'm still amazed how Christians make cheesy copies of cultural icons, to the neglect of Christians creating life-changing culture), I hadn't obeyed the great commission properly. According to the maze of top-selling books, my marriage was a wreck, my kids were probably hellions, my health was in question, and my life was just not as Biblical, purposeful, and fulfilled as God wanted it to be.

Now honestly, I'm sure my life isn't as Biblical, purposeful, and fulfilled as God might want it, but I'm not sure all the answers were to be found in a bookstore simply because it was under the safe and comfy banner of a "family" bookstore. Holiday peace was playing hide-and-go seek with me, and winning.

So today, Christmas Eve morning, I'm sitting at Starbucks. This was one last ditch effort to successfully finish an exhausting search. Ordering a tall cup of the over-priced morning's blend, I sat down and claimed a small round table for my very own. Christmas music was playing... "Noel... born is the King of Israel." Ahhh, this was feeling good. Christmas-like. Peeeaceful. Two older gentlemen were sitting in the corner talking politics and stock market in animated fashion while satisfying their coffee addictions. It seemed to be the suburban version of two small town's male patriarchs sitting at the local greasy spoon to chew over the morning fat. It was a good moment just to soak in. Yes, I had finally found the gem of my month- long quest.

And then, rather abruptly, an agitated gentleman got up and abruptly scolded the whistling barista for playing the now-turned-funky Christmas music too loud. They turned it off. My coffee cup reluctantly gave up it's last few drops of a legal drug. I noticed an obviously distraught couple sit down and silently drink their coffee like it was prescribed medicine. The wife sat quietly with wadded tissue in hand... wiping heavy Christmas Eve tears. No peace there. The two old suburban cronies had solved the world's problems and called it quits. They walked out about the same time my precarious peace decided to get up and leave as well.

Then I pulled out my Bible. I've been reading through Jeremiah. If you're familiar with this weeping prophets words, you know this wouldn't be the first place to turn and find peace. But there it was in chapter six... "... ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls."

Amazing. We search for something that can really only be found in one place... or in one person. Jesus. Somewhere along His ancient path he said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

Amazing... how we hunt and search for peace in every corner during the hyped holidays. Our search seems to go everywhere but the manger, and it's there where peace is found. It's an ancient path beyond the mall, beyond the latest Christian subculture's best-selling whatever, beyond even the alluring aroma and sanctuary of Starbucks. The ancient path is found in the Word. The Word became flesh and came to dwell with us. The Word is Jesus.

Now I'm ready for Christmas, for the advent of Jesus really has come.