My middle daughter spurns the idea of "fitting in." When her class was issued a school project involving dressing up like a Bible character and presenting an oral report on that character, I assume that most of the girls chose Esther and will show up at school in a sparkling princess dress and crown. My daughter, out of sheer stubbornness, chose Balaam's donkey. I wasn't sure whether to be proud, or irritated, but I found myself driving her to the costume shop on the night before Halloween in an attempt to find donkey ears and a tail.
The shop was a wasteland of picked over shelves and tired irritated employees who were exasperated by the constant stream of last minute shoppers who were clogging the aisles, and yelling at their children, their spouses, or their parents. We squeezed between a six foot tall robotic grim reaper statue and a couple who were having an unusual amount of difficulty deciding which kind of fake blood to purchase. Overhead was an enormous "radioactive mutant zombie decoration" oozing neon pus. Amid the commotion and gore, my daughter tugged on my sleeve. "I don't like this place," she whispered. I didn't care much for it either. That crowded aisle stood for everything distasteful about Halloween to me--the rampant mindless consumerism, the preoccupation with the violent and macabre, the insistence on creating a supernatural realm without any moral governance or order. I could understand why Christians would opt out of the celebration altogether.
That was last night. This evening, I took my daughters out trick-or treating. Everybody in our neighborhood was out of their houses, congregating in the street, smiling and greeting one another. I talked with neighbors I hardly ever see and some that I've never met before as our children ran up and down sidewalks squealing with joy at the latest gifts of candy they had been granted. An elderly African American woman made small talk with me while an Asian man over-generously filled my children's buckets with candy that he spent a good portion of his paycheck on. An astonishing number of people took time to address and compliment each of my children individually. There was a palpable sense of community and connection--of kindness, generosity, and even joy. I could understand why Christians work to redeem this strange slice of culture for Jesus.
That was last night. This evening, I took my daughters out trick-or treating. Everybody in our neighborhood was out of their houses, congregating in the street, smiling and greeting one another. I talked with neighbors I hardly ever see and some that I've never met before as our children ran up and down sidewalks squealing with joy at the latest gifts of candy they had been granted. An elderly African American woman made small talk with me while an Asian man over-generously filled my children's buckets with candy that he spent a good portion of his paycheck on. An astonishing number of people took time to address and compliment each of my children individually. There was a palpable sense of community and connection--of kindness, generosity, and even joy. I could understand why Christians work to redeem this strange slice of culture for Jesus.
It takes a supernatural wisdom to sort through all the details of life on this good but fallen planet. It's a good thing we have the Holy Spirit to lead us through these dangerous and confusing territories. In the meantime, may God give us wisdom to reject what is evil and accept what is good as a gift from Him.
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