The Star is Gone

Recently I entered the following short story in a Christmas contest sponsored by Journezine, the online magazine for Heart of God International Ministries. I'm excited to say that my entry won first place in their annual contest. The topic, "According to the Plan", pushed my imagination to think of the Christmas story from a totally new angle in which I let my Biblical fiction brain weave this story. Journey with me as I ponder how God's plan could not be destroyed by the evil, insecure King Herod. 

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THE STAR IS GONE

                At last our small village appeared to be returning to normal. The recent census had stirred up a hornet’s nest with so many people arriving in the land of their fathers to be counted. Then there were the rumors of the shepherds encounter with angels on the hillside announcing the birth of the long awaited Messiah.

                People traveled to the shepherd’s fields to see the exact location of the supposed materialization of the angelic host and hear their stories. Then they would journey into town to the place where the brilliant new star appeared to hover over a baby in a manger. Not to mention the latest unusual caravan; men in their extreme finery, asking questions about a king being born and how they had followed the vivid star right to our town.

                Father said people believed it because they needed something to hope in. That everyone was piecing together prophecies of old to fit what they wanted to be true. Mother loved to tell us girls the latest information she’d gathered after going to the market. Father, the pessimist, doubted the Messiah would ever come or that Yahweh even cared about his chosen people anymore.

                After last night’s terror, he may never believe.

***

                I bolted out of bed when I heard an ear splitting scream in the distance. I peeked out the window and saw men on horses, carrying torches and rushing through the streets, barging into homes. When our door burst open my eyes locked with the dark ones of a soldier.

                “I’m here on official business for King Herod.” His piercing gaze and gruff announcement backed me into the darkness of the far wall. “Is there a baby boy residing in this home?”

                I shook my head no. My knees quivered and I was fearful he might consider our Elias a baby, when in fact he was a toddler. Just then Elias cried out for Mother.

                “He’s not a baby!” I shouted with more bravery than I knew existed within me. Instantly my legs propelled me towards the back of our home darting in front of the soldier. My three younger sisters, Mother and Father, and our beloved only male child Elias, were stirring on the other side of the partition.

                With a shove of his meaty hand, my body flew through the air. The flash of his sword was the last thing I saw before my head hit the wall and I slumped to the floor. When I awoke, a blood smear marked where my skull had connected. I reached up and felt my head. My fingers became sticky and caught in a matted, tangled mess.  I winced in pain.

                Then I saw Mother. She lay on her bed, soaked in blood. I could see Elias’ tiny hand poking out from under her…lifeless…blue. My sisters were huddled in a corner, crimson splatters on their night clothes and faces. The more my eyes could focus the more blood I saw.

                “Where’s Father?”

                My sister’s all glanced towards the door. I stumbled to my feet and ran outside. Father knelt in the street, tearing at his clothes and his hair, throwing dirt and rocks over his head, beating his chest and crying out in anger to the heavens. 

                “Why?” He cried over the wails of several neighbor’s equally mournful shouts. “My only son! You took my only son!” He shook his fists at the dark skies.

                Four-year-old Miriam wrapped her arm around my leg and stared up at me. I scooped her into my arms and attempted to wipe the dried dots off her innocent face. I turned to go inside to protect her from the angry mournful scene in the streets.

                “They were looking for the Christ child,” she whispered. “But Rebekah… He’s gone now.”

                Her soft voice stopped me in my tracks. I stared into the distance and listened to the moans of all who appeared to be grieving their infant sons’ gruesome death at the hand of King Herod’s soldiers. “How do you know anything about the Christ child?” I asked, processing my own gleaned information from the many months of gossip.

                Light began to break in the east. The terror of the dark now gave way to the reality of our living nightmare. Father, despondent and filthy, collapsed on the floor near Mother who sat rocking the slaughtered body of our beloved Elias.

                After cleaning my sisters up and feeding them a small meal, I took them out of the house.  We crept around the inn and wandered the well worn path to the stable. Instantly I knelt at the feeding trough and wept, letting the strain of the vivid night’s events be released into the musty hay spilled on the ground around the manger. Miriam found her way into my lap while Rachel and Mary scooted in close.

               I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “Do you girls believe the Christ child was born here like the shepherds have told everyone?” My hand rested on the edge of the temporary baby bed.

                Miriam nodded emphatically but the other girls shrugged their shoulders.

                “There’s been a lot of talk about the old time prophecies that have been fulfilled when that baby was born here. The shepherds, those rich men that came through following that star we see every night and now Herod having baby boys killed…” I gulped and choked on my tears. “If that baby was the Christ child, did they kill him too?”

                “But Rebekah…” Miriam’s little face was so close to mine I could smell her breakfast on her breath. She placed her hands on my cheeks and stared me straight in the eyes. “The star…it’s gone.” She nodded as the impact of this realization hit me.  

                “We must have hope in Yahweh’s plan,” I announced to my little sisters in a motherly tone. “The Christ child...the promised Messiah…He is safe.”

 Proverbs 21:30 There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan that can succeed against the LORD. (NIV) 

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X-tra, x-tra!! Read all about it!!

I can taste the end of this Christianese series and I’m not about to let this obnoxious letter keep me from excelling in my endeavors to exemplify common Christian words that make us scratch our heads and say…excuse me?  

I wasn’t too surprised when the results of an online Bible dictionary search for words that begin with the letter X didn’t turn up anything. Well, not in the English version, anyway.  My mind began to think of words that sound like they start with “X”. You know, hooked on fonix style? I came up with Xtol, Xalt, Xodus, Xemplify, Xhale…

With a nudge from a friend, (Yes, I'm listening!) I settled on a word Christians cringe at: Xmas. 

For years we’ve heard Christians complain that the secular commercialism is trying to remove Christ from Christmas and for years we let our ignorance ride that wave of “separation” from the “world”; boycotting the purchase of cards/decorations that say Happy Holidays or Merry Xmas, snubbing our noses at businesses that decorate their windows using Xmas, etc.

Ignorance isn’t a bad word. Being ignorant also isn’t awful.  Both simply mean one is unaware or uninformed, but being an ignoramus…that’s just plain dumb by choice and I’m sorry, but ignorance isn’t always bliss.

I’ve heard the quote by Steve Droke:

“Knowledge is power, but enthusiasm pulls the switch” 

Sometimes I think Christians need to quit being so uptight about things they don’t deem as upright. So, let me enthusiastically pull your switch, remove a little bliss, and infuse a wee bit of knowledge so we can avoid ignoramus status.

What does “X” really mean? Like in the mathematic world, X has “multiple” meanings:

• a signature of an uneducated person
• a strike in baseball
• a kiss at the end of a letter
• an omission of information
• the Roman numeral for the number 10
• x marks the spot
• sign by the x

In the Greek alphabet, the letter chi is represented by the symbol “X”.  We know the New Testament was written in Greek. In Greek the word, Xριστός = Christ, and is transliterated to mean: The Anointed One. Xmas is simply the abbreviated version of Christmas.

I’m not sure when Xmas officially appeared but my research tells me that the abbreviation became widely accepted in the fifteenth century; dating back to the inventor of the printing press, Johannes Gutenberg. 

The tedious work of typesetting by hand indeed justified the use of common abbreviations and the X=Christ version also appeared in words like Xian and Xianity but was pronounced using the word Christ. Just think of how much space and time was saved when printing pamphlets and books. Sort of like our modern day texting.

So there ya have it. Feel free to txt away MRRY XMAS! and know you are no longer an uptight ignoramus. I’m happy to have pulled your switch!

"...a Savior has been born to you. He is Χριστός του Κυρίου." Luke 2:11

L8R G8R. UR AWESO & I <3 U all!
M <3

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CHRISTMAS EVE FRIDAY FICTION

WooHoo! My first time hosting Friday Fiction. 
(even if it's unofficial)

If you'd like to join the fun, scroll down (BELOW MY STORY) and add your link to the linky tool at the bottom of this post. Then be sure to come back and follow the links to our other participants. And don't forget to leave an encouraging word to let the writers know you are reading! (We thrive on that, you know.)


My Christmas Eve FF story was written during the Christmas quarter of Faithwriters under the topic "Christmas Carols".

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Gladys McKnight and the Kings

“Slow down, Gladys,” Millie begged. “Give me a chance to let the caboose catch up.” Millie referred to her own large square-shaped-back-side.

“Well, hurry it along. This steam engine is ready to roll.” Gladys yanked the chain of her imaginary train whistle.“Woot-woot!”

The daring duo, rebels in their old age, escaped unseen from the confines of the assisted living home to enjoy the annual Christmas tree lighting at the court house.

“Do you see what I see?” Gladys exclaimed pointing upward.

“What?” Millie squinted, “I can’t see anything since my cataract surgery flopped.”

“A star,” Gladys urged Millie to look again. “That star looks like it’s dancing in the night. See, with a tail as big as a kite?”

“Hrmph, all I see is black sky.” Millie’s pessimistic attitude could block out the brightest star.

Millie paused to catch her breath. Earlier, she balked the idea of leaving the comfort of the home. She could see the tree lighting just fine from her spot by the window, but Gladys’ granddaughter was singing and that made it worth the venture.

“We need to get closer so I can take a picture,” Gladys urged, zigzagging through the crowd.

Millie clutched her cane with one hand and firmly grasped Gladys’s coat-tail in her other. “Oh, do you hear what I hear?” Millie jerked on the fabric wadded in her fist.

“No, I can’t hear very well, remember? That’s why we need to get closer!” Gladys fished in her pocket for her camera.

“I hear Melinda singing. Her song is floating high above the trees. I know her voice anywhere. It’s as clear and big as the sea.”

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In Car Nate

Hark! The herald angels sing. Glory to the new born King!  

I love Christmas music. After Dec. 1st, that is…not before Thanksgiving (just to be clear). I sing along in the car while the radio plays a mixed bag of Christmas songs. I love to choose a contemporary Christmas song each year to sing as a special in church because I have a thing for breaking out of the traditional box. But there’s something about the carols. They’re easy to harmonize to, cozy, familiar, and they’re always about the birth of Jesus.

Have you ever noticed in some carols how the first verse flows along, but then maybe the following verses don’t fit the melody or rhythm as well? Or maybe the words are obscure and we smile while singing them and think…"It’s a Christmas carol/hymn, it must mean something good” and we sing away, clueless of what we just said.  It’s sort of like singing “watermelon watermelon” in a choir when you forget the words and you need to look like you know them.

I remember years ago while caroling one night in dim lighting. We strained to see the words in our handy-dandy carol booklets and were wading through the 2^nd verse of Hark the Herald and a man in the group sang it like this:

 Christ by highest heav'n adored

Christ the everlasting Lord!

Late in time behold Him come

Offspring of a Virgin's wome

Then he proceeded to laugh at himself and ask; “Who here thinks womb rhymes with come?”

I can’t hardly sing that verse now and keep a straight face.

Today’s Christianese post comes from that infamous 2nd verse, which also includes this little nugget:

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see

Hail the Incarnate Deity

When I was a kid…okay , maybe not just as a kid, I never stopped and thought about what Incarnate Deity meant. Have you? Let’s see if I can explain it.

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