The Conundrums Of Christmas

Christmas has always been a incongruous holiday.  It's the season when hope confronts cold. As winter begins we experience the longest nights; during Christmas those nights are lit up with often garish displays of light that fight back the darkness  During Christmas we celebrate a baby born of humble circumstances destined to have the

government . . . on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

That promise will be result in a crucifixion and an empty tomb.  At the risk of dramatically overstating the comparison, Christmas is about living well while knowing death is imminent.

Yesterday, the incongruity hit home.  I was a human jungle for my elementary school aged niece and nephews, and I read an email telling me that a friend from college had died.

This morning, the Christmas trees are still up; there are a few scraps of wrapping paper on the floor, and Skip Bayless is ranting in support of Tim Tebow on ESPN's First Take.

Death in the midst of life and life in the middle of death seems to be what Christmas is really about, a lot of hope during a season when fear and darkness dominate.