Unquenching the Spirit Isaiah 61:1-3, 10-11, John 1:6-14, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

There is a Christmas curmudgeon that lives inside of me
who does his best every year in the run up to Christmas
to set off “bah, humbug” stink bombs wherever I go.
Like, when we’re out in Christmas traffic in Charlottesville he’ll grumble,
“Why can’t people just stay home? Stupid people buying stupid presents!”
Or when we bring a tree home and set it up he’ll say,
“I’ll bet ten bucks the needles fall off in a week.”
Or if somebody wears a fun reindeer sweater to a Christmas party he’ll hiss,
“Some people just shouldn’t be allowed out in public.”

It’s awful! He’s cynical, catty, sarcastic, and downright rude
but sure as December comes every year,
every year he elbows his way to the front of my inner psyche
and starts his anti-Christmas carping.
If I try to ignore him he only yells louder.
If I try to evict him from my interior cast of characters, he only fights back harder.

So every year, about this time, I find myself locked in an exhausting inner struggle;
my Christmas Curmudgeon engaged in mortal combat
with the other parts of me that would like to have some fun at Christmas;
the other parts of me that would like to relax and enjoy the season.
And every year I have to take a deep breath and remind myself of a bit of wisdom
that I learned back in my days as a counselor.

What I learned is this.
Every member of my interior family has a purpose; a reason for doing what it does.
Even if it seems on the surface destructive or inappropriate or unhelpful,
if I take a little time and explore a little more carefully,
I usually discover that there are hidden good intentions
at the root of every emotion or behavior.
That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t challenge some of the messages I give myself.
It just means that sometimes instead of fighting it or being ashamed of it,
what I really need to do is listen more carefully to it;
see if there might be something important this annoying part of myself
is trying to say to me.

I wasn’t sure what my inner Christmas Curmudgeon was trying to tell me
until I read this week Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians.
That’s when it hit me.
There in verse 21 of chapter 5 I read Paul’s advice to his Christian friends.
“Test everything,” he writes. “Test everything.”

Test everything.
That’s what my Christmas Curmudgeon is trying to tell me.
Test EVERYTHING.
You see, my Christmas Curmudgeon knows all too well
that some of the other parts of me are too easily taken in.
• One part of me is a pushover for the sentimental.
• Another is an easy target for appeals to my guilt or my eagerness to please.
• Still another part of me is marked by an insatiable appetite,
especially for things that aren’t really good for me.
My Christmas Curmudgeon is trying to protect me from Christmas
He has good intentions.
He just goes overboard sometimes.

Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians is widely believed to be the earliest document
we have preserved in the New Testament.
He’s writing to a group of new Christians who have ventured out into uncharted waters.
They are part of the church, the ecclesia, those who have been called out for service
in the name of their risen Lord.
As Paul comes to the end of his letter it’s as though he’s running out of time
and he’s just throwing in a final laundry list of advice –
short, staccato bits of wisdom to guide his friends in their holy experiment.
“Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances.
Test everything.” And I mean, everything.

The Thessalonians had no template on which to build their model of “church.”
They were making it up as they went;
trying to separate the wheat from the chaff;
trying to identify which practices drew them closer to God
and which ones made them feel more isolated and alone;
trying to figure out which practices made them stronger in their faith
and which ones dissipated and sapped their strength.
“Test everything,” Paul told them. “Assume nothing.”
“Make every effort.”

Nearly 2000 years after Paul wrote his letter,
we have a different challenge, but Paul’s advice is just as essential for us.
The Thessalonians were blazing a trail,
they were trying to figure out what shape the new church would take
as they sought to put a saddle on God’s Holy Spirit
and follow where it led.
“Don’t quench the Spirit,” Paul writes, “Just jump on and hold tight!”

Our challenge is different.
In too many ways God’s Spirit nearly has been quenched in our lives.
Theoretically it’s still as powerful and active as it ever was,
but we’ve let our EXPERIENCE of God’s Spirit become terribly diluted.

I’m reminded of the TV commercial I used to see advertising a floor cleaning product.
The tag line was, “It cuts through dirty wax build-up.”
In the years since the Thessalonians first answered God’s call
and stepped out in faith to begin their grand experiment as a church
So many extraneous, non-essential elements have crept into our life of faith
and built up, layer upon layer.
And like dirty wax build-up, these elements of apathy and commercialism,
of pride and pettiness have dulled the shine;
have become unfortunate, shallow distractions
taking our attention away from that which is most valuable.
At no time is this more evident than at Christmas.

Test everything.
That’s what Paul wrote and that’s what my Christmas Curmudgeon
keeps trying to tell me in his own rude, sarcastic, cynical way.
There’s hardly any aspect of Christmas that’s not dulled somehow
by being too commercial, too sentimental, too manipulative, or too gaudy.
It’s easy to get distracted by these non-essential elements
and lose sight of the light that shines at it’s core.
But that doesn’t mean we should automatically outlaw gift giving
or ban the very mention of Santa’s name.
We don’t necessarily need to forgo office parties or writing Christmas cards.
We just need to be aware of what we do and how we do it.

We need to evaluate our traditions and practices using a very simple guideline.
Does it bring us closer to God, or make us feel more isolated and alone?
Does it strengthen our faith or leave us feeling exhausted and depleted?

Granted, it takes courage to buck the Christmas machine.
And it takes energy to do something different when you’ve already got traditions
no matter how soul-sapping those traditions may be.
But let me hold out an example to you of the wonderful things that are possible
when you take time to test your traditions, your practices
and resolve yourself to cut through some of the dirty wax build-up.

Just this past Thursday some volunteers at Rockfish
gathered up all the Care Bear Tree gifts you contributed and took them
to families representing fifty-one children.
One grandfather who participated in the Care Bear Tree giving this year
told me of a very particular unquenching of the Spirit
that happened to him and his grandson as they shopped together.

The first thing is that though this grandfather and his wife
have always bought gifts for their 13 year old grandson on Christmases past,
they took time this year to test if this was still a good idea.
They decided, in fact, that it was NOT a good idea.
The boy already has plenty of stuff.
He doesn’t need any more stuff.
So the grandparents told their grandson that his Christmas gift this year
was not going to be more stuff
but it was going to be the privilege of going on a shopping trip with his grandfather
to buy gifts for an eight year old boy that was on the Care Bear tree.

On the appointed day, the grandfather and the grandson went to the store
and the first thing they did was pick out a bicycle for the 8 year old.
The grandfather knew that the bike needed a safe helmet to go with it
so he selected one with colors that matched the bike.
“No, Grandad,” said the grandson. “Not that one.”
“THIS one,” he said holding a helmet that was painted in a camouflage pattern.
“But that doesn’t match the bike,” the grandfather protested.
“Doesn’t matter,” said the grandson. “It’s cool.”
At that point recounted the grandfather, the grandson took over the shopping
and was very much into the experience.
Now, I could stop there and it would be a good story.
But there’s more…

The next day, the grandson rode with his regular carpool to school
and the mother who drove the carpool was compelled to call the boy’s mother
that evening to tell her what happened.
It seems that all the grandson could talk about on the ride to school
was the gift his grandparents had given him – the gift of shopping for a little boy.
Now, I could stop there and it would be a good story.
But there’s more…

The carpool Mom went on to say that the unusual gift the grandparents had given
was the topic of conversation at her own dinner table that evening.
It was all her son could talk about.
And after dinner she reports that her son came to her and asked her, pleading really…
“Can I call Grandpa and see if he’ll do that with me?”

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” - John 1:14