Gideon’s Fire, It was Christmas

God forgives our sins, our mistakes, our miscalculations, but forgiveness does not remove the physical or emotional consequences of the deeds of those that err, or those that are collaterally damaged by the rebellion of others. Thankfully, it was Christmas, and heavenly visitation interrupts the normal discourse of men this time of year, with celestial providence outside of our prediction or control. 

A large cedar chest sat long unopened at the end of Gideon’s bed, a constant reminder of his failures. Hidden inside, a treasury of tokens that had both paralyzed him, and made him strive to be better than the man of his past. Mementos, one of which caused him to walk away from his calling, to discard the black robes he had once worn, and others reminding him of men that where much stronger and better. But one cannot hide from holy vocation forever, for it is a divine call never to be abandoned, only relinquished in disqualification. Mercifully, and by God’s infinite goodness toward the penitent, it was not always forever. 

Gideon was not disqualified, his sins long ago repented, forgiven, and his restitution towards the affected paid fully and in exponential proportion. Deep within his soul he knew that if he were to ask others to engage the enemies of his people, if he were to ask them to risk everything in furious angelic exhortations from the pulpits they had been entrusted, then he would have to open that cedar chest, knowing it would unleash all the emotions that had paralyzed him for the past fifteen years. 

Christmas approached, and his time of reckoning would be outside his control. The call came from his pastor who needed a minister to fill in for him on the Lord’s Day, which just happened to be Christmas Day. The young pastor’s wife was close to delivering their first child, and Gideon was the only ordained minister that could answer the call on such a short notice. He agreed reluctantly, as he fixated on the cedar chest. 

Gideon put down his phone and moved to the chest to face his ghost. There were two compartments that separated the contents, on one side lay two flags, folded, and placed respectfully. The first had draped the coffin of his father, a slow casualty of a foreign war. The second, a Confederate Battle Flag that had flown above the holy and sanctified ground in remembrance of gallant men who had given their full measure of devotion in defense of their homeland. It had been removed in order to appease the godless mob, removed by the weak and cowardly. Both of these flags were catalysts leading to his disillusionment with the American Empire, and all those that supported its continuation. 

On the other side of the chest was the item he the feared most. Just as Ebenezer Scrooge had feared all the spirits that haunted him that Christmas Eve, this item haunted Gideon like no other. A small blue box, covered in silk, rested on top of the black robe he once wore, a reminder of misjudgment, selfishness, unfaithfulness, of the anguish and sorrow he had caused his family – a deep loss and unmistakable judgment from a loving but righteous Heavenly Father. In the box were the ashes of Gideon’s twin sons, anticipated joys taken at birth, and from his helpless arms. No amount of kind words by ministers or faithful friends could undo this sorrow, nor reconcile the contradiction of Gideon’s calling and his actions leading to this horror. But it was Christmas, and it was time accept that which Christ had come to offer. 

The Christmas service that morning was beautiful, the old chapel had been dressed in evergreen garland and magnolia wreaths by Gideon’s family, a tradition they had embraced for nearly ten years. The liturgy and the hymns moved the congregation in worshipful adoration toward their Lord. This was Gideon’s first homily in almost fifteen years, and those that had remembered him as their pastor and the circumstances of his retreat from public ministry anticipated his return. Dressed in the black robe he had abandoned, Gideon arose and stood behind the lectern. 

“Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth, peace, good will toward men. Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people, for unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord,” these were the first words Gideon spoke, and for the first time in a very long time, he believed they were for him. His soul emptied into the congregation, his words were filled with hope and forgiveness, and the Spirit of Christ moved upon the congregation so powerfully that at the end of his homily, there were no dry eyes in that old chapel, for they were consumed with gratitude for the work of grace that God had done among His people this special day. 

The last hymn of this blessed Christmas was “What Child Is This?” and the congregation needed no instruments to assist them in singing before their Lord. As they sang, Gideon made his way toward the entrance of the chapel, to shake hands with the congregants as they left, as any good Southern pastor would do. And as he did, the first one to meet him, even before the hymn ended, was an old man clothed in a long grey coat, with a long white bread, and a look of familiarity in his eyes, although Gideon could not place him as a regular attender. The old man held Gideon’s hand and softly spoke, “Well done, son.” Then with a sparkle in his blues eyes he announced, “She had twins.” In a twinkling, the old man was gone, and Gideon’s heart was once again full, knowing that with new birth there always comes hope.

Merry Christmas!