Who, Me?

I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)

When we last saw Bilbo and the dwarves, they were in trouble because they followed their own desires and left the one path through Mirkwood that would get them to the other side. The end result of all the escapades with disappearing elf feasts and hungry spiders is that all of the dwarves are captured by the elves and imprisoned in the dungeon of the Wood-elves' king. Thanks to his magic ring, Bilbo is able to creep about the king's stronghold somewhat freely, but that has its limits as well. In moments of particular desperation, he longs for help from Gandalf, although he knows that it is not possible to get a message to him about their plight. Even if he could send the wizard a message, Bilbo knows, there is no guarantee that Gandalf would be able to come to their aid, busy as he is with a dangerous mission of his own. Thirteen dwarves are depending on him for rescue, but even though "he sat and thought and thought, until his head nearly burst…no bright idea would come."

After days on end of wandering invisibly through elven halls and observing their habits, routines, and conversations, the burglar finally figures out a way to break out of the place, and with a little luck, the plan actually works! Bilbo discovers that sometimes when you pray for something – someone to help get you out of a tough situation, for example – you have to be prepared to find out that you are the answer to that prayer.

Dear Santa

Ask, and it will be given you; search and you will find; knock and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. (Matthew 7:7-8)

It being that time of year and all, I heard a rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" which reminded me of a scene from the first episode of Doctor Who that featured the Eleventh Doctor. Right after the opening credits, we meet Amelia Pond, the little girl who will grow up to be this Doctor's companion. She is kneeling by her bed, hands pressed together in front of her, eyes closed, saying her prayers. Or is she? "Dear Santa Claus," she starts. She thanks him for some toys, presumably her Christmas presents, and then proceeds to ask him for help with a problem she's having. 

I think I might as well start my prayers with "Dear Santa Claus" sometimes, because it becomes all about me and the wish list of things I want. Don't get me wrong, I think God wants us to ask him for things – that is, after all, what Jesus told everyone in the Sermon on the Mount. That's not the only purpose of prayer, though. It is supposed to be two-way communication, but more often than not I am guilty of making it all about me sitting on God's lap and telling him everything I want for Christmas. 

My wish for this Advent season is that we focus not on our letters to Santa-God but rather on the gift that is more important than anything we'll ever find in our stockings. The hope, peace, joy, and love embodied in the baby in the manger are the best gifts of all.