3rd Person Christmas Letter

Michael Airgood has had a very good year. He had a good spring semester in 2008. His sister, Rebecca, moved to Georgia for six weeks and lived with him while she was an intern with a gynocologist in Toccoa. It was a lot of fun for him to have his sister for the few short weeks she was there. He passed his only required math class with an A-. It was a miracle.

He completed his internship to Russia during the summer. It was a wonderful time and he learned a lot. To read more about his summer go to michaelairgood.blogspot.com. He is in the application process to be a full time career missionary with the General Board of Global Ministries.

His fall semester in 2008 was a little rocky. He was sick for some time and had many doctors' appointments. Perhaps he just can't go too many months without getting sick. He finished a 30 page senior paper and is preparing for a semester long group project.

His sister got married two days after Christmas. She and her husband, Mike Miller, and very happy together. Michael has one semester left at Toccoa Falls College.

Love, Michael Airgood.

I had somewhat of a reunion. I went out to a party and most of my graduating class was there. It was good to see old friends, and people who weren't friends then but could be now. It was good to hear where people are, what they are doing these days, and where they are heading next.

Most of my friends are at about the same place; graduating soon, no clear plans for the future, and a little nervous! It's a good place to be in life. It's fun because you know that no one will let you fall too low at this point! Even if I don't get my dream job, someone will find me something at a factory somewhere to tide me over for a season!

I'm in the application process with the General Board of Global Ministries, the United Methodist Mission Agency. I've had a phone interview with my conference committee on mission personel. They recomended me to the GBGM, which is the first big hurdle. The GBGM website says that they keep ACTIVE files open for 3 years! Yikes! I can't imagine waiting for 3 years to hear from them. Then, after I get selected for an assignment I have to pass all of the medical/psychological exams!

I've applied for a job at a church camp for the summer, and I'm looking into a few more ministry type jobs to hold me over during the application process. So, that's where I'm at.

My sister and I read the Gospel lesson for the family service on Christmas eve. Rebecca cried. Rebecca is getting married in two days, so she cries at the drop of a hat, but this was a special cry for a special event. We shared this special story with our congregation because this is a story we share daily with each other and hopefully with the world.

I've been spending time with my best guy friend from High School, Josh. Josh is a carny. He was featured on the news in West Virginia once when they interviewed people about the carnival. He's a bartender during the winter months. When I want to go visit Josh I have to walk into the bar - the sleaziest bar in my hometown - a verboten act of a good Christian boy from a small town.

On Christmas Eve I sang three solos at the Episcopal church. Then I walked to the local bar to invite Josh out to dinner the next night. Then I left the bar and walked to the United Methodist Church where I read the Gospel Lesson. Now, those who heard me sing and read at churches saw the good Christian boy I am. And those who saw me exit the bar on Christmas Eve must have seen something very different. Those who saw me leave the bar, if they even took the time to make an accurate identification, would have seen a very bad boy. Because, what kind of alcoholic, backsliding heathen needs to drink on Christmas Eve?

This is a story we share daily. There's a lot to be found in the birth story. We read it with a hint of sadness, we're so sad that Jesus was born in a filthy stable. But I don't' think the story could work any other way. Mary wasn't turned away from all the inns because they were full - Mary was turned away from all the inns because she was an unwed teenage mother. The people are called back to their hometowns to be registered, and who wants to throw up a sign that reads "This is my family - we are WhiteTrash!" Your long lost cousin comes back to town and he brings his whore of a girlfriend. What kind of good Jewish man brings his pregger, whore girlfriend with him to his hometown?

I don't think the story could work any other way. The angels appear to the shepherds - the lowest of the low in a city that doesn't start out all that high. Jesus is born in a filthy barn.

Pastor David preached on the difference between celebrating Christmas as a day and celebrating Christmas as a lifestyle. Christmas day celebrates like the magi. Gifts, glitter, tinsel a one time occurrence that doesn't change much and doesn't last long. Christmas lifestyle is lived out like the shepherds. When you live for Jesus you will be called to stinking stables and you will meet the lowest of the low. Most days you will have nothing to give, and this has been the hardest lesson for me to learn.

People see the good Christian boy singing in church and reading the eloquent story. People want to see those things. Jesus sees the hurting and broken people. Jesus wants us to see them too. Jesus wants us to share this special story with them.

I'm a stubborn person. I inherited my stubbornness from both sides of the family.

My mother's parents are so stubborn that when grandpa wanted to drive up to Pennsylvania and grandma didn't want to make the trip grandpa drove himself up to Pennsylvania and left grandma alone on her 79th birthday ... less than a year after having a massive aneurysm.

My dad's side of the family is infamous for its stubborn streak. I would choose not to share most stories because, frankly, they are embarrassing. Stubbornness isn't always so cute.

I find that nothing brings out stubbornness more than being surrounded by other stubborn people. I've been home for a little more than a week, and already my stubborn spirit is getting out of hand. I don't think I could last much longer here. I kind of wonder how I survived here so long. How I thrived in this environment.

It's been a long week. Rebecca is getting married two days after Christmas. She had her gallbladder removed on Thursday. It hasn't been easy.

It has been fun taking care of Rebecca. We've been watching a lot of television and a few good movies. We are watching Silence of the Lambs ... possible the best scary movie ever made.

I'm forming some ideas for an article about postmodern faith. I'll post it here. I will also post my Christmas letter written in 3rd person. I love Christmas traditions.

I was spending some time with a friend and her family. Crystal is in her forties, and has been a friend since I started Middle School. Crystal asked me to clarify the Christian and Missionary Alliance position on the end times.

Now, this is something I should know. I attend a C&MA school and have passed all of my Bible classes. I remember learning this material. But, I have intentionally not retained it. I received a really poor grade on a theological paper for responding, “I couldn’t care less!” to a question about my theological belief about the timing of Christ’s return.

I couldn’t care less. I honestly doubt that I could care less even if I tried. I think my views would be pretty accurate for my generation. “It’s a mystery, we live in the tension, God knows not I.” All of these answers make significantly more sense to me and my generation than “Amillennial, pre-millennial, or postmillennial” will ever make.

There is a large framed painting in a Sunday School classroom at Toccoa First UMC. It was hung in the mid-fifties. It shows the progression of time from Creation to Revelation. Every year is mapped out in perfect detail, every line is clear-cut, there is no room for gray areas. I have a pretty good guess of which older adult in my church bought and hung this particular painting. I can see his long fingers gently leveling the wide-framed picture, and his thin wiry frame stepping back and sighing in satisfaction. A place for everything and everything in its place.

I spent an hour staring at this picture once. Nothing could have been less relevant to a mind of my generation. I finally made the executive decision to remove the chart from the room that was serving young adults and to place it in an older adult Sunday School classroom. My generation is all about the gray areas, the smudged lines, and the Big Picture that eschatological theology so often clouds or misses altogether.

The Epic Fail and “Marrow” by Ani Difranco

To have sinned so strongly against my own moral conscience hurts so deeply. To have realized the painful disgrace long before the actual sin took place and to have done it anyways offends even me. I wonder how God puts up with this sinful heart. This heart that would make a conscious choice to abandon everything it believes and follow the flesh.

“The answer came like a shot in the back
While you were running from your lesson
Which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question.
Plus, you weren't listening
You were stockpiling canned goods
making a bomb shelter of our basement.
And I can't believe you let the moral go by while you were soaking in the product placement.
And where was your conscience?
Where was your consciousness?
And where did you put all those letters that you wrote to yourself but could not address?”

Paul addresses sin. He talks about the flesh. He says that he knows what he does is wrong but that he does it anyway. And, we read these verses in church, and we gloss over the reality of his sin. Because I read those verses often and I find no redemption in them. I see the promise of redemption – but I get something so different than those around me when we read those passages. Surely those around me resonate with his cry of pain and inadequacy. Surely others understand Paul’s surrender to his flesh – others see their own copouts in his words.

“There's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
The whole childhood of potions that are all bottled up
And so one by one I am dusting off labels
I am uncorking bottles and filling up cups.
So go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
and I'll have a taste of mine
But first let's toast to the lists that we hold in our fists of the things
That we promised to do differently next time.”

And my soul fails to magnify the Lord. We learned about Mary’s hymn of praise in church on Sunday. Her response to the unusual news was “my soul magnifies the Lord.” We have her hymn. Why don’t we sing the hymn of despondency that David wrote after the Bathsheba incident. Although, I guess I should be glad that David’s infidelity made it into the narrative at all. My soul, oh, my soul fails to magnify the Lord.

“Cause the answer came like a shot in the back
While you were running from your lesson
which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question.
Cause I'm not listening to you anymore.
My head is too sore and my heart's perforated
And I am mired in the marrow of my "well ain't that funny?" bone
Learning how to be alone and devastated.“

I feel that my willpower is too weak and my understanding of grace too small to live out the faith I so deeply love. I feel that I don’t even know myself – or that I know myself too well and don’t want to admit it.

“and Where was my conscience?
Where was my consciousness?
And what do I do with all these letters that I wrote to myself but can not address?”

I am finished with my senior paper.

I took my first final last monday ... I passed the class with a 96%

I have less than stellar grades in everything else.

I am reckless.

We are having our final Frosty Joe's (our coffee shop) of the semester - a white elephant gift exchange/open mic night.

I'm ready for a little bit of vacation time!

Rebecca is getting married in less than a month!

I used my warming tray for the last time today!

I plan on blogging during finals week.