Saturday, December 11, 2010

The Log Drawer

The Log Drawer
Luke 2:8-11
8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.


It was the Christmas of 1996. And the plan was to visit my mom a couple of days after Christmas at her apartment to celebrate with her. I spoke with her on Christmas Day and she was so excited for us to come over, eat dinner, open gifts, and share the joy of Christmas together. And that year, my sister Kammi was going to be able to be with us as well. We were going to all be together for the first time in several years. Our excitement was tangible.

As we got to that Sunday, I remember the anticipation we all felt as we drove to Anoka to visit my mom at her apartment.
And I remember the look on her face as we all showed up. I remember the tears which welled up in her eyes as we all walked through her door. I remember the smile of purest joy on her face…and the enduring, unyielding hug with which she enveloped me. She didn’t want to let go.

She finally loosened her arms, stepped back, wiped the tears from her eyes, and invited me in.
She was proud to have us all together in her home. And we were all blessed to be there. After coming in, she offered us something to drink, and she had some Christmas cookies out for us. As I bit into the first one, childhood memories flooded back of sitting at the table with bowls of home-made different colored butter frosting…containers of green and red sugar crystals, red-hots, sprinkles, and those little silver balls to use as stars for the tops of Christmas tree cookies. You know, the ones on which you almost chipped your teeth as a kid. Awesome memories helping to create a beautiful day.

After eating some of mom’s home-cooked food, and sharing time together, she was too excited to wait any longer and ushered us into the living room where we gathered around the Christmas tree.
Now, this Christmas, I was just glad to get together with her. Financially, she had not been doing that well and so I honestly didn’t expect extravagant gifts. But she was quick to prove me wrong. It turns out she had been saving up so she could lavish her children and grandchildren with gifts to show her love. Cool toys for the children, jewelry, perfume, and clothes for my sister and my wife, and all the while, I sat there in awe of this grand event my mother had created for us, her family.

As I sat there on her floor admiring the extravagance with which my mother was blessing her family, I began to get excited about the gift I saw under the tree for me.
I began to speculate about nice cologne, or new clothes, or…

Nothing could prepare me for what was to come next.
My mom—the woman who carried me for nine months in her womb—the woman who raised me and knew me better than probably anyone—this woman handed me my gift as the grand finale to her gift-giving extravaganza. And I was excited, because the gift she passed me seemed to have some serious weight to it.

I shredded the paper and what to my wondering eyes should appear?

With bewilderment, I said as I pulled the item from its wrapping:
“Oh…it’s a log.”

But then I turned it around and noticed something more.
“Oh…and it has a drawer in it.”

My adoring mother had gotten me a log drawer.

And she looked at me with deep meaning in her eyes and said, “When I saw it, I thought of you.”

And I couldn’t help but almost wonder aloud, “And what, exactly, was it you thought of me?”

A log drawer.

I thanked my mother profusely for this enigmatic gift.
And we concluded our holiday festivities together.

The log drawer became a sort of white elephant gift between us and our friends.
When friends would come and stay, we would sneak the log drawer into their luggage before they left. And upon arriving home, we would receive a phone call asking, “Why do we have a log drawer?” And so it would go, the log drawer passing back and forth.

Years later, the log drawer disappeared from my possession.
I’m not exactly certain of its ultimate destination. Maybe it’s still in someone’s old suitcase in the back of a closet somewhere. But I know that I don’t have the log drawer any longer.

After mom passed away right before Christmas in 2001, I would remember the log drawer each Christmas.
And in fact, when I think of the many gifts I’d like to receive, there is no other gift I’d rather have than that puzzling piece of timber with the drawer carved into it.

The log drawer.
I never understood it, or the reason my mom got it for me. But I can’t help but think that in some way, I need it.

Sometimes, the gifts we understand the least, are the ones we need the most.

And so it is, the extravagant gift of salvation comes to us, not in ways we could expect…nor in ways we can understand…but in a smelly sheep cave.

A smelly sheep cave.
The birthplace of grace.

When I think of the log drawer and of my mother, I know I have no understanding of the gift—but I know the giver.
And I know how much she loved me.

And so it is when I allow myself each Christmas to go to the manger scene…the smelly sheep cave…I can’t help but wonder what the Almighty was thinking when He chose not to ride in with a flaming chariot to save us all, but rather, chose to be born as a diaper-wearing infant in a smelly sheep cave.

Sometimes, the gifts we understand the least, are the ones we need the most.

I can’t understand the gift of grace itself…let alone the way in which it came to us. But I know I need it.

I know that on a daily basis, I fall short.
I fall short of my expectations for myself. I fall short of my family’s expectations for me. I fall short at work, and at home, and with my friends. I miss the mark all the time. And yet, God shows up in the smelliness of my life, and loves on me extravagantly, justifying me with His grace…clothing me in His righteousness.

I don’t understand it.
But I know I need it.

As you gather with friends or family this Christmas, and as you tear into the wrapping paper, I’m sure you will find at least one present under the tree which you don’t fully understand.

But remember this:
you know the giver. You know their love for you.

And so while you may not understand the gift…you know the heart of the giver.

And so it is with grace…with Jesus.
We can’t possibly fully understand the gift…but we know the heart of the Giver.

Sometimes, dear friend, the gifts we understand the least, are the ones we need the most.

By the way, if you happen to find the log drawer, would you mind returning it? I promise it won’t end up in your luggage ever again. It will be put in a place where I can see it everyday and be reminded of the heart of the one who gave it to me…and through hers, the Father’s as well.

Merry Christmas to you, dear friend!

©2010 Shane Burton