I wonder at my inconsistencies. I thoroughly enjoy the icicle lights that
hang from my porch roof and the life-size plastic Frosty the Snowman that
greets me at the driveway, brightened by the light bulb inside his stomach. 
        Even more I enjoy the candles in the Advent wreath, brighter by one each
week, symbolizing the light of Christ coming into the world. I know I'm
sentimental about these things, but I'm not sentimental about Christmas
cards. 
        I still haven't bought a Christmas card to send, even though I love
getting them in the mail.  The Christmas cards at the store are all wrong
for me. I can't send the chubby cherubs with "Peace on Earth" scripted in
the sky. I can't send the winter scenes that wish "Happy Holidays." I
haven't bought a card because none seems powerful enough for the seemingly
contradictory message of Savior/Judge, Baby Jesus/Almighty God.
        And all this from a man with a plastic snowman in his yard.
        What I really am looking for is a card that portrays an ugly red dragon,
one with 10 horns and seven crowns, with a tail strong enough to hurl stars
from the sky.
        The image also must include a beautiful woman, one clothed with the sun.
This woman would have the moon beneath her feet and a crown of 12 stars on
her head. She would be obviously pregnant.
        The card will have to be many paneled. For in the next scene the woman
must give birth. The precious baby will be whisked away to the heavens,
wrested from the scabby claws of the dragon before he can use his gnashing
teeth.
        The throne of God must appear, and in the split-second interval between
birth and rescue, that moment when the dragon is robbed of his prey, we
must recognize the baby as the one St. John describes: "the one who will
rule all the nations with a rod of iron."
        The music accompanying this birth is not, "Silver Bells" -- not even
"Silent Night."  No, we need a war march.  For the marvelous Michael,
captain of the angels, faces off with the dragon and his demonic horde. The
battle rages, and Michael's forces prevail. You can see why a Valentine
cherub isn't going to make it.
        So here I sit. On the one hand I adore the love of Mary at the manger
with God in human form, humbled at birth, cozy. On the other I marvel the
tenacity of a mother outrunning a ferocious dragon.
        The gospels of Matthew and Luke tell of the Savior's birth. The gospel of
John does not.  John's story comes in the book of Revelation, chapter 12.
John's story describes the dragon and the spiritual warfare accompanying
the birth. The birth we celebrate at Christmas is the birth of a king, one who leads
the kingdom of light against the "prince of this world" who leads the
kingdom of darkness. We have the promise of who will win, but the victory
is not without struggle. 
        I'm sure I'll send some cards. I do want to share the joy of Jesus'
birth.  I do want to remember my friends, eat fudge on festive plates and sing
carols. Yet Jesus' birth excites more than wonder and fun.  Evil sings in
the story and calls forth Herod and Judas and Pilate and the dragon. 
        My inconsistencies are ever before me: a snowman-loving mortal worshiping
a mighty God. I'm as hapless as the Christmas cards I critique. Yet the
story in Revelation gives adrenaline to those of us with little faith. I
muster up my courage to be undaunted by a terrible dragon. I see power in
the manger.
        I could even make my own cards. After that I could add to my outdoor
decorations. I could put a red dragon on one side of my roof and the model
of a lovely woman nearby. The woman could be attached to a ripcord, by
which she jerks away from the dragon. Frosty can watch safely from the
driveway, with me.

Reprinted with permission from the Champaign-Urbana News-Gazette, copyright
2000.