Tip of My Iceberg

There are times in life when I enjoy something really cheesy.

Nothing to do with dairy, mind you. That creates issues people don’t want to be around. Big time.

I’m talking about cheesy movies, stories that turn out exactly the way you think they should. Good wins the day. True love finds its way. Romance, good feelings and all of that.

I love the Hallmark Channel at Christmas. It has made an art form of cheesy movies.

These stories are predictable.

I get that. It’s what makes them so positive. It’s always a winter wonderland setting, like a beautiful Christmas card. Somewhere along the way, two people meet and fall in love. A problem appears that challenges a person, family or an entire town. And it all gets resolved in under two hours.

What’s not to love?

The problems are serious. A death that happens before the story begins. Relationships that have cratered. Loss and pain. Loneliness and heartache. Real world problems.

There’s always a way for the problems to be worked out. Many have a sense of redemption and resolution.

Sounds like I’m binge watching. Not so much. I put them on when I’m alone in the house working. Background noise and all. I only have to look up every now and again to catch the gist of the story. I always watch the last fifteen minutes because that’s when the feel-good ending happens. And being an empathetic person, there are sometimes tears. Always grins. (Heck, I cry at our local grocery store commercials because of their family-oriented ads.)

The harshness of our world can overwhelm. More people killed senselessly. Wars raging. Natural disasters. Famine and refugees with no home. The suicide rate increasing during this time of year. We live in a messy world where people aren’t always thinking kindly of others.

Even in this time of celebration, where Christmas moves people to care a little more, many folks are in a dither about planning and preparations. Simple pleasures, simple joys, often escape us because we’re so busy doing we miss seeing and experiencing.

The first Christmas was a simple affair. The wise men with gifts didn’t show up till later. A few shepherds, who smelled of sheep and dirt with no time for baths. A stable where animals were sheltered that wasn’t clean or tidy. Two people weary from a long journey.

Yet this was the Promise that God had made from the beginning of time. A Savior who would pay the penalty for all our imperfections and misses. Born in obscurity to a people group hated then and not appreciated much now. As a Jew, He would know what discrimination and rejection was all about.

Some may call this cheesy. Or a crutch. Or ignore the reality of the birth of Jesus altogether.

Just because some people deny it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know our happy ending was real? That heaven was a guarantee?

With Jesus, it is.

Nothing cheesy about that.