How Silently, How Silently -- Christmas Letter 2016

HOW SILENTLY, HOW SILENTLY THE WONDROUS GIFT IS GIVEN AGAIN THIS YEAR.  Although subdued, for me personally, Christ’s advent is fully celebrated in 2016.  Although my eyes see more gray-tones than colors of late, He is no less wondrous and no less a gift.  Nevertheless, Christ decidedly sliced through the dreariness of this year’s December in the third stanza of a favorite hymn, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

How silently, how silently / The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts / The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming, / But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still, / The dear Christ enters in.

My ear which was attuned to hear “the blessings of His heaven” in previous years had, like my under-used guitar, fallen into atonality.  Perhaps due to “this world of sin,” but my ear did not “hear His coming.”  Normally, I hear echoes of Christ and His gospel of grace everywhere.  But 2016 cinched off the continuous concert of God’s glory so furtively that I didn’t even recognize the growing silence.  It was like when I used those foam earplugs during air-travel—slowly, slowly sealing my ears in synthetic muteness.  Though the roar of the turbines screamed just a few feet away behind a few layers of sheet metal, I grew sleepy in the artificial cocoon of my own weary thoughts.  But my unnatural deafness was not peacefulness; it was plastic and forced.  The sleepiness of my year did not leave me refreshed, but ironically sleepier … even after taking extra doses of vitamin B-12.  Turns out, true peace does not require foam insulators.

“Wake up, O sleeper; rise from the dead and Christ will shine on you” (Ephesians 5:14),” urged the Apostle Paul, eerily reminiscent of the Prophet Jonah who unnaturally slept through the storm he helped create (Jonah 1:6).  O little town of Bethlehem: Wake up!  Don’t you know that the Lord has arrived? He is in your own neighborhood!  O little man called Kevin: Wake up!  Don’t you know that there is more going on than a voiceless December?

The divine narrative is the same—then and now, no matter how gray the December—Wake up!  “Now Peter and those who were with him were heavy with sleep, but when they became fully awake they saw His glory” (Luke 9:32).  “Wake up…for some have [yet] no knowledge of God” (1 Corinthians 15:32).  “Let us not sleep, as the others do” (1 Thessalonians 5:6).  “Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die” (Revelation 3:2). 

But how?  How can I wake up?  Into that question the humble Christmas carol preaches a penetrating word: “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.”  Meekness?  Is that the soul’s smelling salt?  Meekness?  Is there not some other method?  I have scads of weakness, is meekness the same thing as weakness?  No, it is not; not even close.  Weakness filled every room and every alley in Bethlehem that blessed night; every tavern and every brothel (which was what the Bethlehem Inn was, by the way, shedding even more light on the anti-welcome we originally gave to Christ), but meekness Incarnate was placed in an animal’s feeding trough.  Meekness is an obscure treasure—usually refused entrance through the front door.  Meekness is a strength—a heart-level pliability to the Lord.  It maintains resistance the things of the world while remaining receptive to the things of God.  Hard hearts and dulled senses due to disillusionment—these offer a counterfeit form of meekness.  But with true meekness—though the outer man necessarily thickens to the disappointments of life—the inner man remains soft to the smallest word and the remotest approach of the Savior.

Weakness says, “I can’t, therefore, I won’t.”   Meekness says, “I can’t, therefore, You must.”  Weakness says, “Life stinks, so pour me another so I can dull my senses a little while longer.”  Meekness says, “Life stinks, but look up—God promised to send a permanent solution to our trouble … starting at, of all places, the little town of Bethlehem (Micah 5:2)!”  Weakness says, “Who cares?”  Meekness says, “Cast all your cares on Him, for He cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).”

I can’t awaken my ear, Lord.  “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.” 

I can’t enliven my heart, Lord.  “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.”   

I can’t brighten this December, Lord.  “Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.” 

I can’t, therefore, You must.  And, You did … starting at a little town of Bethlehem, ending at Calvary.

T            T            T

This year the Rees family has not nearly been as “gray” as its paterfamilias.  While we hang out our second Christmas wreath on our Tennessee door, we review a year that floated mainly between home, school, and the hospital—where Shellie continues to work as a nurse on the Medical-Surgical floor.

The kids, who are now much more like young adults than children, have excelled in their classwork; which is so nice to see and such a relief, because they have far outpaced my (Kevin’s) ability to assist with homework.  Seth will finish his sophomore year this coming May at the local community college, ready to transfer to a State University for a degree in wildlife biology or resource management.  He is beyond ready to begin his adult years.  Emma, too, is headed to State University after she graduates from high school this coming May.  She aspires to study dental hygiene and, hopefully, get a job anywhere in the country that she fancies.  Abby is writing articles for the school newspaper, volunteering (now that the soccer season is over), and participating in various clubs.  She currently has her driving permit and is ready to take her road test in February when she turns 16.  Nate is our happy-go-lucky guy who breezes through school with not much more of a daily summary than: “It was fine.”  He turned 14 last weekend and enjoyed watching the release of “Star Wars: Rogue One” with his good buddy.  Jocelyn continues to thrive in school.  She switched from 4H participation to her school’s journalism club called, “News Crew.”  She will turn 11 this week, but she seems closer to 21.  She enjoys playing with the dogs and learning to crochet.

Shellie’s career in nursing is advancing, but in such a demanding field, it is never without great and thankless effort.  She is a semi-regular charge nurse now, but she realizes more and more what she would do to increase efficiency and optimize patient care if she were in a bigger hospital.  But she gets the hero award this year for the way that she has served the family during our unexpected transition.  I, due to many justified and belabored reasons, was unable to continue working as a pastor where I was employed.  I resigned in August and have been, until just a few days ago, gagged against talking about any detail with anyone locally.  But now that I can talk about it, I find that I no longer want to talk about it.  The end result of it is this: small towns in the rural South being what they are economically, I have been unable to find employment.  Into this foamy brine Shellie stepped and returned to a night shift in order to make a few more dollars per hour.  That is why she gets the gold star.  I am still at a loss for words.

However, the grayness of 2016 is melting back into color.  I was able to find great agreement and synergy with a church in Washington State.  So, while we wrap our Christmas presents this year, I am also packing cardboard boxes for a 2200-mile move west.  I happily agreed to become the Discipleship Pastor at a growing church in West Richland, WA called Grace and Truth Community Church.  Since Emma’s senior year of high school is already in full swing, we decided that it would be best for the family if I move and begin working in January before Shellie and the kids join me in May.  All in all, we can say—as we have many times in the past—that this is just another opportunity to trust Jesus.  We warmly extend to each of you a prayer, whatever your 2017 might bring, may “the dear Christ enter in” with His unmistakable peace.    

–Kevin, for the whole crew, 12/20/16