Chip Shots

The holiday is over. Packages and paper, like confetti, are strewn across the floor. Mom and Dad are exhausted from a late night of playing Santa. The kids? They’re just getting started. There are toys to break, video games to wear out, and clothes to admire. It’s a good day, the kind that passes by unnoticed, but lodges itself somewhere in the heart. Life’s best moments are often like that. Just another day in this grace we call life. Our kids are older now: 22, 19, 15. We wistfully recall the days when they’d gang up on our bed at dawn on Christmas morning shouting, “Time for presents!” Actually, they still attack our bed on Christmas morning, which can be quite a jolt for Mom and Dad. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’d trade the early days for the present time. Somehow, watching your children develop into teenagers and adults who make you proud brings with it an even deeper joy. Not better, but certainly deeper. When our kids were young, we wanted them to experience the joy of g...

Suppose your child was lost. What would you do to find him? My mother experienced the palpable panic of a lost child years ago. The child was me. I was in my first grade classroom when the intercom called my name: “Mrs. Christensen, Steven Gilbertson’s mother called. He is to go to Grandmother’s Place after school today.” I had never heard of Grandmother’s Place, but the cute little girl next to me seemed excited about it. “That’s where I go after school! You can walk with me.” Even at six years old, I knew that following a pretty girl sounded like a good idea, so along I went to the day care facility down the street. However, something had been lost in translation. The message should have been, “Go to your grandmother’s home after school.” I wasn’t supposed to go to a day care at all, but rather to my grandma’s house. I didn’t know any better. I was just following my friends, as careless as a six year old should be. Meanwhile, my mom was frantic. I did not show up at my grandma’s hous...

I'm not much of a songwriter, though I certainly wish I was. My friend Mike is really good at it and it makes me jealous. But he thinks I'm a better writer than him, so I guess that makes us even. Anyway, the recent public failure of Ted Haggard, a well known Christian pastor in Colorado, left me feeling morose and sad. Ted apparently harbored a secret life, and it finally caught up with him. He resigned his local and national leadership positions in public disgrace. I know it's easy to be critical of fallen Christian leaders. To a degree, it is warranted. They do, after all, wield a great deal of influence; it is appropriate for them to be held to a higher standard. But it's still a tragedy, and it got me thinking: assuming as I do that Ted was a good man trapped in behavior he detested (I can identify with that; can you?), did he have a safe place to talk about it? Probably not. Why is it that the church, which ought to be the safest place for sinners to come clean is...

As you know, the Christmas season is in full swing. For many, it’s become a holiday so tepid that even the word “Christmas” is avoided. “Merry Whatever,” I guess. Last year, as the Christmas — I mean “holiday” — season began, one department store decided not to sell Christmas trees. Instead, they called them “holiday trees.” Another store took all references to Christmas out of their advertisements, and told its employees not to say “Merry Christmas” to customers. Public pressure (i.e., the threat of lost revenue) led these corporations to relent. But it didn’t stop a public school in another state from including in its “winter program” the famous and well-loved song, “Cold is the Night.” (It sounds suspiciously similar to “Silent Night” — but we don’t want to confuse the children.) How the simple story of Jesus’ birth can be so controversial is a mystery to me. I suppose Christians bring it on themselves by trying to celebrate Christ and capitalism on the same day. Whether Jesus gets ...