Is It True?

My mother gave birth to four boys in a row, eighteen months apart...bless her heart! And I was the fourth. No doubt, my place in the birth order was influential in my growth and development in a great many ways. But when I was nine years old, I was concerned for only one thing about my place in the birth order: it was my bicycle ownership record.

My first bike was a tricycle which had belonged first, to my eldest brother, Skip, who passed it on to my brother Dave, who, later, handed it down to my brother Dan who, in turn...left it in the garage for me. This was the beginning of a pattern which would repeat itself in blue jeans and shoes and sleds and skis. But, when I was nine... my main concern was with bicycles... My second bike, which was my first two-wheeler had been a birthday gift to Skip who passed it on to brother Dave, who--when he had outgrown it--gave it to my brother Dan who, in turn..., left it in the garage for me.

So, as Christmas approached when I was nine years old...I knew exactly what I would put on my wish list. I wanted a new bike--a bike of my very own--more than anything else in the world. I took no chances. I wrote a letter to Santa Claus -telling him that I knew this was a lot to ask but that it was all I wanted, and he could bring any brand of bike he could afford, as long as it was a new one. Just to be safe, I also told my parents that I wanted a new bike of my very own for Christmas. And, as a precautionary measure, I told both sets of Grandparents. I also told my teacher and--I am embarrassed to tell you--I reminded God in my prayers every night that what I wanted for Christmas was a new bike of my very own.

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, I was not too surprised that my teacher gave each student a candy cane for Christmas (and not a bike). On Christmas Eve, however, when my grandparents came and left without presenting a bike to me... panic began to set in. When my parents tucked me into bed that Christmas Eve, I thought I would die from worry. Before I could sleep, I needed to know, would I get a bike?

With the covers pulled up to my neck, I asked my mother, "Mom, do you think that I will get a bike for Christmas?"

"Don't get your hopes up, honey. I don't know that Santa could get something so large as that on his sleigh. Maybe you will get a model airplane or something." And as soon as she said it, she turned out the tight. Don't get your hopes up? It was a little late for that. I had to know the truth and I could not wait until morning.

True?

The great Swiss theologian Karl Barth said that the question which every preacher must answer every Sunday is this, "Is it true?" is the world only as it seems or is there something more? Is the universe an accident of nature or the intricate creation of a loving God? Was Jesus a fraud or a fool, or was He the Savior of the world? Is the power of God still at work in the world or did it die on that old rugged cross? When we die and all is said and done for us, will we be food for worms or children of God? The question that really counts for the likes of you and me is Karl Barth's question: "Is it true?"

Oh, how we hope that it is true. We need to know that it is true and we cannot get through life without trying to find out. We crave something more and so, we look for proof, for clues... We search for evidence... evidence that we hope will lead us to the truth about God and about our destiny.

Most of us, at one time or another, have wound our way through the library or bookstore shelves searching for the truth about God. The problem is, of course, that after reading every book on the shelves--from Aquinas to Zen and everything in between... you still will not have the answer to the question that counts. If we undertake a search for evidence, we will end up with information. ..and much of it quite dull. If we understood everything that every great mind ever wrote about God, we still wouldn't have the answer to the question, "Is it true?"

So, what are we to do?

A Sign

What we need is not evidence, but a sign. To answer the question that counts, we don't need information about God. What we need is a sign from God that will reveal his glory so that we will believe. Evidence is dull. Signs are sensual and exciting. Evidence is boring but a sign will make your heart race. What we need for faith is a sign, a powerful foretaste of what is to come.

Our modern, sophisticated culture says, "Don't get your hopes up." The Kingdom of God or a sign of the Kingdom is too much to hope for. Our modem culture says, "Hope for small things. Doable things." ...a good pension, a gold watch, a membership at the club. Hope for the Kingdom of God is rejected and little, impotent gods are worshiped. A book with the title How to Marry a Millionaire is on the bestseller list. (Talk about small, doable things?) And if that is not enough, there is now a television commercial for a 4-wheel drive Volvo which claims that this is a car which can (Are you ready for this?) "save your soul". I doubt it.

At Cana

Jesus is the guest at a wedding. The party is going strong when, suddenly, the wine runs out. At the request of his mother, he turns six stone jars of water into the equivalent of 150 gallows of fine wine.

Is it true? Indeed, it is true. Servants brought water to Jesus and the guests drank wine. For those servants of Jesus and for his disciples, it was a sign which they were privileged to recognize...a sign of his glory. But what about all of the other wedding guests? Even those who drank the wine until they were silly from it, never knew that they had shared the dance floor with the Prince of Peace. The one they waited for all their life was there, revealing his glory.., and, even as they drank His wine, they missed Him. His glory is revealed to those who seek to serve and follow Him.

It is true. The world is much more than it seems. The universe is the intricate creation of a God who loves you. Jesus is Lord and Savior of the world. The Holy Spirit still moves and works with great power. And when all is said and done.. we are children of God.

Hopes High

It is almost impossible for a nine year old boy to sleep on Christmas Eve...especially this one. On that night when I was nine years old, I stayed in my bed until I knew that everyone in my house was asleep. Then I went down the stairs. I turned to the left at the bottom of the staircase into the large pantry. It was dark and I reached out in search of the pull-chain that would turn on the light. And that is when I bumped into something that I was surprised to find there. In the darkness, I wrapped my hands around the handlebars of a new bike. I sat on the seat and squeezed the handbrakes. Then, in the darkness, I pushed off a bit and rolled my new bicycle a few feet across the room. My heart raced. It was a taste of what was to come. I ran back to my bedroom, pulled the covers up to my neck. Until Christmas morning, I slept like a baby.

James Adams is Episcopal Chaplain at Dartmouth College and Assistant Rector at St. Thomas Church. He is author of a new book, The Prince Mammoth Pumpkin~A Parable, an adult fable published by Paulist Press. He lives with his wife and three daughters in Hanover NH.