Candy, Prayer and Poetry

December 1, 2000
Michael Evans

December. What a month!  It is the one month of the year where I get to use the kitchen.  “Everybody stand down ‘cause good old dad has come to town.”

December is the only time I cook anything.  For this one month I am the self appointed gourmet chef.  As chef I get to explore the endless possibilities residing within the fifth (and very important) food group: Candy. 

It all began about ten years ago when my father-in-law gave me my very own candy thermometer, a tool that has become every bit as precious to me as my Milwaukee Super Sawzall, though for different reasons.  

I look forward to December  each year because I know that I will be making toffee, peanut brittle, party mix,    caramels and more.  

Listen up dads: Making candy is very cool.  Your kids will love you (and laugh at you) for it.  So dads, I urge you to consider cooking, at least in the month of December.

Another less cheerful observation about December is that it seems to be a “down” month for many people. 

How can that be?  I read  that Americans used 28,497,464 rolls of wrapping paper, 372,430,684 greeting cards, and 35,200,000 Christmas trees during a recent Christmas season.

All this “stuff” surely guarantees a delightful season!  Not quite.

The longer I live the more I notice that the accumulated pain people have experienced in life seems to come knocking loudly on the door of their hearts during the Christmas season.

Whether it is the memory of the sudden (or prolonged) death of a loved one, a barren womb, a tough childhood, a sick or handicapped child, or any of a host of other things, one thing is clear:

The Christmas season is like a spotlight shining into our souls.

So what is the answer?  Applied words. I’m reminded of the words to the precious hymn, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus!”  “…Oh what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer! 

Prayer coupled with poetry is even better.  I wrote the following advent poem during a season of troubled seas seven years ago.  I hope you enjoy it.

Zechariah and Elizabeth (Based on Luke Chs. 1-3)

It was unseasonably warm in the month of Kislev when Zechariah and Elizabeth heard a knock at their door, a knock for which God had prepared them long before.

“Shalom my friends!” Zechariah said, but in return saw only dread. 

Weak and trembling the three visitors could but stare as if their souls had been seared and no one did care.

At last, Judah spoke with dread.  “It’s John,” he wept. “He’s dead.  Herod did it, that gutless worm.”

They fell on their faces to the cold stone floor, never once knowing pain like this from afore. 

Yet from their low state God’s grace came in power, granting peace and the strength of a fortified tower.

At once they remembered as if only yesterday, twenty-nine years before when God made a way…for their son to be born.

Elizabeth was sixty-two when the angel spoke to Zechariah who, gripped with fear and trembling, received with joy yet wondering why God had now decided to give a barren womb new life to live.

“For forty-four years we have prayed my dear bride for the joy of a child who with us may abide.”

“We have fasted and prayed and cried many tears, yet we have known God’s faithfulness all through the years.”

“And now my dear ‘Lizbeth Gabriel has said that we will soon have a son upon whose head shall be the joy of preparing the way for the Son…of God most High, heaven’s Holy One.”

“This son named John will be a great joy, a delight to many, a Spirit-filled boy, who will make ready a people prepared for the Lord, one who shall lead in strength without sword, who shall baptize and preach repentance of sin, forgiveness for all who now enter in.”

Slowly Zechariah and Elizabeth arose from the cold stone floor that had been their repose. 

Wiping away tears Elizabeth spoke.  With great strength and courage her message awoke:

“Zechariah, our beloved son John is now dead.  You know how I loved him, you know how I said, that whatever befell him we’d accept without question.”  Our God reigns Zechariah, there is no exception.”

Zechariah gently nodded his head to agree with the truth that had been said. 

Again Elizabeth spoke, but now with great joy, as she recalled a memory from twenty-nine years before.

“Zechariah, do you remember that very first day, when Mary came to visit for a three month stay?”

“I never did tell you, I thought you would laugh.  I told you one part but not the other half.”

“When Mary greeted me that very first day the baby inside me leaped in such a way that I knew the Spirit of God filled both me and the babe. 

For unborn John knew that Jesus was present in the womb of Mary, the virgin peasant."

“But Zechariah, here’s the part I didn’t tell you.  After John leaped in my womb I said something like, ‘blessed is she who has believed what God has brought to reality will be brought to completion in the lives of two men, who listened to God again and again.’”

“Zechariah,” she pleaded, “don’t you understand? “God’s purpose for John is complete, there’s no more.  He has prepared the way for Jesus whom we adore.” 

“And now the way must be made clear, including our Johnny who is so dear.”

“John fought a good fight.  He finished the race and kept the faith.  My dear Zach, let us trust fully in what God saith.”

With tears streaming down each face the joy of the Lord was in the embrace of Zechariah and Elizabeth who had now come to see the purpose of God in tragedy.

Although they were in age nearly five score, Zechariah and Elizabeth beamed with the joy of the Lord.

This is the light of candle one, to see through the clouds and to the sun.  Lord grant us eyes to see the purpose of God in tragedy.