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I have never heard before of Kate DiCamillo. If you have, why have you kept her a secret from me? I saw the movie Because of Winn-Dixie which was based upon the DiCamillo book of the same name, but the movie was so unimpressive that I did not feel impelled to run out and read the book. So, I have not known who she is.

Thankfully, Universal Studios has decided to turn her book The Tale of Despereaux into an animated feature. Colin, my eight year old son, and I saw a preview for it, and thought it would be a movie worth seeing. But first, it was suggested I read the book first.

Fortunately, Colin received the book for Christmas (what a surprise…) and we have started to read it. Let me say this – the book may make an unhappy turn at some point that will destroy everything, but to this point (about 1/3 through) the book is magical. She has us wondering whether there are still things such as happy endings (Colin thinks there are) and what the meaning of the word ‘perfidy’ is.

And to add intrigue to magic, we have the following passage. Despereaux, a small and unique mouse, is being sentenced to death for his breach of the mouse code. His French mother, Antoinette, who appears more show than substance, puts on what seems to be a display of sorrow as her son is led away. Here is how DeCamillo presents the scene:

At the last moment, Antoinette came out of her faint and shouted one word to her child.

That word, reader, was adieu.

Do you know the definition of adieu? Don’t bother with your dictionary. I will tell you.

Adieu is the French word for farewell.

“Farewell” is not the word that you would like to hear from your mother as you are being led to the dungeon by two oversize mice in black hoods.

Words that you would like to hear are “Take me instead. I will go to the dungeon in my son’s place.” There is a great deal of comfort in those words.

But, reader, there is no comfort in the word “Farewell,” even if you say it in French. “Farewell” is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.

Well, reader, if you are a Christian, you know that the word we hear from our Father when facing our own eternal dungeon is not “farewell.” The words we here are “I will go in your place.” There is comfort there.

To see this spoken in a children’s story is a sublime joy.

Read this and ponder it carefully.

C. S. Lewis wrote this from within the mid-century worship wars (awful term) of the mid-Twentieth Century Anglican church of which he was a devoted member. (And you thought worship battles were a new phenomenon.)

I have highlighted the key phrase. There is enough here to give us all pause.

“The first and most solid conclusion which (for me) emerges is that both musical parties, the High Brows and the Low, assume far too easily the spiritual value of the music they want. Neither the greatest excellence of a trained performance from the choir, nor the heartiest and most enthusiastic bellowing from the pews, must be taken to signify that any specifically religious activity is going on. It may be so, or it may not….

“There are two musical situations on which I think we can be confident that a blessing rests. One is where a priest or an organist, himself a man of trained and delicate taste, humbly and charitably sacrifices his own (aesthetically right) desires and gives the people humbler and coarser fare than he would wish, in a belief (even, as it may be, the erroneous belief) that he can thus bring them to God. The other is where the stupid and unmusical layman humbly and patiently, and above all silently, listens to music which he cannot, or cannot fully, appreciate, in the belief that it somehow glorifies God, and that if it does not edify him this must be his own defect. Neither such a High Brow nor such a Low Brow can be far out of the way. To both, church music will have been a means of grace; not the music they have liked, but the music they have disliked. They have both offered, sacrificed, their taste in the fullest sense. But where the opposite situation arises, where the musician is filled with the pride of skill or the virus of emulation and looks with contempt on the unappreciative congregation, or where the unmusical, complacently entrenched in their own ignorance and conservatism, look with the restless and resentful hostility of an inferiority complex on all who would try to improve their taste – there, we may be sure, all that both offer is unblessed and the spirit that moves them is not the Holy Ghost….

“All our offerings, whether of music or martyrdom, are like the intrinsically worthless present of a child, which a father values indeed, but values only for the intention.”

– C. S. Lewis, “On Church Music”

I have for so long believed in the ideal that Christians can love each other across musical tastes. Perhaps I hope for too much.

I mentioned recently the ‘irrepressible gift of music’. It’s more irrepressible than I might have imagined.

Apparently, four guys met at an elite Finnish music conservatory. They shared a love for classical music and for heavy metal. They were cellists. That is apparently a volatile mix, for what you end up with is shown below.

This is not for the faint of heart. But you have to see it to believe it.

Look, (Yo-Yo) Ma, no electric guitar!

I am wondering about their parents – sending their boys off to the conservatory, picturing them someday playing concerti with major orchestras. There’s a story there somewhere.

Thanks to Matthew for putting me on to these guys.

“For the Son of God, the incarnation meant a whole new set of relationships: with his father and mother; with his brothers and sisters; with his disciples; with the scribes, the Pharisees and the Sadducees; with Roman soldiers and with lepers and prostitutes. It was within these relationship that he lived his incarnate life, experiencing pain, poverty, and temptation; witnessing squalor and brutality; hearing obscenities and profanities and the hopeless cry of the oppressed. He lived not in sublime detachment or in ascetic isolation, but ‘with us’, as ‘the fellowman of all men’, crowded, busy, harassed, stressed and molested. No large estate gave him space, no financial capital guaranteed his daily bread, no personal staff protected him from interruptions and no power or influence protected him from injustice. He saved us from alongside us.”

– Donald MacLeod, The Person of Christ, page 180

I know this is not easily a merry Christmas for all of you. I know that some of you face Christmas this year with loss and hurt and confusion and frustration and sadness and loneliness and fear.

Jesus knew these things, too.

So, may you find this Christmas blessed because of the One who came to save us from alongside us.

A Jewish blogger, who likes Christmas and expects our culture to make a big deal out of it, noted last week something I did not know – that some of our favorite Christmas songs were written by Jews. Curious

I commented Sunday that South Florida suffers under something of a reverse Narnia curse. In Narnia, if you do not know, the White Witch kept Narnia under a spell where it was always winter and never Christmas. (And if you did not already know that, I hope that Santa brings you The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis.) In Florida it is occasionally Christmas and NEVER winter. This bothers me now and then, but on the other hand….

Apple may have lost some of my admiration due to some hardware problems (I’ve replaced now my battery, hard drive, keyboard, and power adapter – what’s left?), but they still hit home runs with their ads (and service has been helpful).

A better audio/video version of this may still be visible at the Apple site.

As most of you know, I write the bulk of my posts at a local Chik-fil-A. My son and grandson (a mere four years apart) play in the play area and I write. It’s weird, but it works.

We come on ‘family night’, and usually there is some kind of kid’s activity going on, usually harmless, sometimes irritatingly noisy and obtrusive. But tonight, it was different.

Tonight, there were two guys on guitar and keyboard playing all kinds of Christmas music. At times, it sounded like we were in a saloon (the keyboardist has that style down, especially on Rudolph!) and at other times in a church. Everything from ‘Feliz Navidad’ to ‘O Holy Night’ to ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’ have been played with great skill.

Makes me want to burst into song. Or at least into a big smile.

Bless these guys. And bless God for the irrepressible gift of music.

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UPDATE: after typing that, I spoke with them and found at they play regularly at the Bradenton Christian Reformed Church (thanks Steve and Joel!)

“It would be most unseemly to feign a cool detachment as we contemplate Christ’s cross. For, whether we like it or not, we are involved. Our sins put him there. So, far from offering us flattery, the cross undermines our self-righteousness. We can stand before it only with a bowed head and a broken spirit. And there we remain until the Lord Jesus speaks to our hearts his word of pardon and acceptance, and we, gripped by his love and full of thanksgiving, go out into the world to live our lives in his service.”

– John Stott, The Cross of Christ, page 18.

Though there are those who would rightly question it, I do have a real, bonafide day job (though as a pastor I only ‘work’ one day/week, as everyone knows). During some seasons of the year, that day job becomes quite full and begins to impinge upon my second job, that of being a father and husband and grandfather in a family and taking care of the responsibilities and joys of that family.

Blog writing has been woven into the pulses and cycles of those responsibilities with some success over the past several months. Not so much this past week, and these next couple of weeks look no better.

It seems I’m having now to work TWO days/week (think of it!) and the Christmas season seems to put time pressure on everything else. This makes it hard to predict the frequency or depth of posts. I think they’ll drop off a bit in both areas.

My real sorrow here is having to suspend my regular Friday posts on sanctification. Some of you have raised some very good questions which I really want to answer, but to answer thoughtfully and carefully. I’m afraid those are going to have to wait.

Be patient with me! There are some really good things in the queue!

Barb and I have been so focused and consumed today that it was not until late afternoon that we realized that this is our 31st anniversary. Yes, I know that we were married in July of 1978. I know that because 7/8/78 is engraved on the inside of my wedding ring. (If you click on this picture, and zoom in on the large ring, you can almost read it.) And, of course, 7/8/78 is a very easy date to remember!

However, 12-17-77 is inscribed on the inside of Barb’s engagement ring. That is the date that really matters. On that day I hazarded a proposal to my dearest friend Barbara Kay Black, that she do the unthinkable and commit the rest of her life to being joined to me. She said yes. Amazing.

The two scriptures that I used in framing the question were the following. One reflects the great desire she had had for some time. The other reflects the realization that I had found a real treasure.

Proverbs 13:12 Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.

Proverbs 18:22 He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the LORD.

I have found a good thing and have obtained favor from the Lord.

——

Two curiosities should be noted here:

1) I married a Black (Barbara Black). My brother married a White (Mary White).

2) We were married on 7/8/78. Our fourth child was born 8/9/89.

Well, I find that interesting.

I don’t think it’s any secret that I’m a big fan of the preaching of my old friend* Tim Keller. The guy is just so good. (Now if Redeemer would only remove the copyright restrictions they attach to the sermons they distribute, I could pass these on to others, but they have chosen not to do that. You can get free sermons here.)

This afternoon, I was listening to an amazing sermon on the genealogies of Matthew 1 which Keller preached this past Sunday. Wonderfully encouraging and challenging, as usual. But I heard proof that the master is human.

In talking about the children birthed by Tamar to the patriarch Judah, Dr. Keller said that it came about by an act of incense.

(Reminds me of the time I pronounced Bono’s name with two long o’s, or when I said that something which was ‘skewed’ was ‘skewered’ or when I, well, the list is too long.)

Yup, it’s good for us mortals to see that others are human now and then.

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*I met him and shook his hand once before he went to NYC. That qualifies, doesn’t it?