This is a season for wishes, isn’t it? We have wished for gifts for Christmas because we hoped they would make us feel good, make us happy, change our lives. By the time you receive this newsletter, it is likely that you’ll have found that even if you received the gifts you’d wished for, your life hasn’t changed very substantially. Oh, I don’t want to sound like a Grinch – Christmas gift-giving, when it springs from real generosity of feeling and spirit, is a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven. But as I thought about the idea of “Best Wishes,” I thought about the double-meanings of that phrase. If I want to wish you the “Best Wishes” for the coming year, what might those wishes be?

I’d love to wish that everything that you hope for comes true, but we all know about those Arabian Nights stories where the “Three Wishes” the genie grants turn out to be curses instead. Let’s face it, we aren’t very good at wishing for things for ourselves – often they turn out to be addictive, fattening, immoral or worse.

I’d love to wish that only good things happen for you. But, we also know that some of the best things that happen to us don’t look very good at the time. I had a really good job that I could do with no sweat. I just didn’t want to do it anymore, the company was changing directions, there was new management coming in and my dad was starting to get pretty sick, and I knew that if I was ever going to do what God wanted me to, I’d better get about it. So I started seminary, traded work that was easy for work that is hard, and eventually quit that really good job and my dad died anyway, and here I am, as blessed as I can imagine being. I’m sure all of you can think of things for yourself that didn’t seem so good at the time that turned out to be the best things that could have happened.

There is a problem with wishes. Mostly we wish for something to be different without us becoming different. Or we wish for ourselves to be different without our actually having to change. We want to be thinner without dieting, smarter without studying, better looking without cultivating the character and grace that defines true beauty. It may be part of the American character. We want to go from where we are now to where we want to be without actually traversing the distance, because the trip is likely to be dull and painful and wrenching, and thank you very much, are we there yet?

I was visiting with someone in the hospital who’d gotten sick quickly. She said, “Why does everything have to change so fast? I was able to take care of myself and now I can’t. Everyone’s telling me the things I can’t do anymore and I’m starting to believe them. Why does everything have to change?” I couldn’t answer her except that I was sure that God was with her, that somehow God would work for good in this, but at the moment I couldn’t really see how.

The opposite of faith, you know, is not doubt – the opposite of faith is certainty. Think about that a second. Faith implies doubt. But when you are certain, you need no faith. Paul tells us, “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:24-25) So, if I want to wish you the best wishes, and you know I do, those aren’t the same as the wishes you might have right now (though I hope for the best for all of you) or even for only good things (though I do hope for good things for all of you in the New Year). No, my hope is that you can see and enjoy how God is at work in your life in the coming year even though we don’t know exactly how that will be. My hope is that you can follow God’s path for you wherever it goes, that you can become all that God has in mind for you. In short, I wish for you a life of faith and that would be the Best Wish for the coming year!

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
              Traditional Gaelic Blessing

Pastor Greg