The Ladder

by Dr. Guy Sayles

Unless you’re a painter, roofer, or fire-fighter, you’re probably not on a ladder very often.  From time to time, you use a step stool to reach the top shelf of a tall cabinet or a step-ladder to change a light bulb. A couple of times of year, you get out the extension ladder and clean out the gutters; but, most of the time, the ladder stays in the garage and you keep your feet on the ground.

But, when it comes to ladders of ambition and achievement, many of us are climbing all the time.  There are always more rungs above us.  Who can count the steps between mail room clerk and CEO, graduate assistant and Distinguished Professor in an Endowed Chair, second lieutenant and general officer, between apprentice, journeyman and master?  I know it doesn’t have to be this way, but for a lot of us it is: our dreams are of moving up: from the windowless office on the first floor to the sunlit corner office on the top floor.  Success for most of us means going higher, moving to the top.  So there’s always more climbing to do and always people just behind and beneath us, climbing faster and faster, threatening to pass us up or knock us off the rung we’re on.

Some of us become so obsessed with climbing the ladder that we lose track of other things which actually matter more than the ladder: things like love, authenticity, and integrity; like health, happiness, and compassion; like family, friends, and God, for instance.  We can get into a frame of heart and mind which convinces us that the ladder is what matters—and no room on it anything other than our own ambitions.  But, because we want to think of ourselves as good people, we tell ourselves that we haven’t left those other thing and other people behind permanently.  We make a kind of bargain with our conscience: “Leave me alone for now, and I’ll get back to you later.  The ladder now; the soft stuff, the heart stuff, after we have more time, more money, and more security.”

Then, something happens.  Someone close to us gets sick or has an accident.  Our spouse walks out.  One of our kids gets in trouble, real trouble, the kind of trouble we can’t fix by writing a check or hiring an outside helper.

Or, to get ahead, we cut corners, bend rules, and subtly stab coworkers in the back; then, one day, for some reason, we catch our own eyes in the mirror and don’t like the person looking back at us.

Or, depression sets in, or we start feeling a tightness in our chest, or we can’t sleep.

Something happens.  And the awareness crashes in on us that we’ve been climbing a ladder not worth climbing.  Remember the truism offered by business guru Stephen R. Covey: “If the ladder is not leaning against the right wall, every step we take just gets us to the wrong place faster.”

We discover what William Butler Yeats described in his poem “The Circus Animals’ Desertion”:

. . . Now that my ladder's gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.

Maybe you know what it’s like for the ladder of your dreams to go away and, then, to lie down, depleted and defeated, in the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.  A time like that can be a gift if we view it as invitation to clarify what truly matters, to integrate faith and ambition in a way that faith is in charge, and to renew our awareness that success without love isn’t success at all.

Guy Sayles is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Asheville. This article originally appeared on his blog, From the Intersection.

Re-reading the Grinch

Artwork for "Forgotten Joy 2011
Advent Guide" by Helms Jarrell

 by Jason Williams

I have always been a bit confused by the Grinch's elaborate lie to little Cindy Lou Who. In my imagination, the Grinch plays the part a little too well. The fact that he was so smooth with his lie suggests that he was thoroughly formed by the trappings of Christmas as much as, if not more than, the child. The Grinch's belief that removing the trimmings would stop Christmas illustrates the extent to which he bought into the materialism of Christmas.

Through his observation of the Whos, down in Who-ville, the Grinch understands only the lie of Christmas told by the material things he sees. His experience begs the question: How do the trappings of Christmas lie to us as we observe and celebrate Christmas?

We know from the end of the story that the Whos represent those whose Christmas joy has not been obscured by materialism and consumerism. Their celebration continues in spite of the Grinch's efforts to stop Christmas. For most of my life I have identified primarily with the Whos. I suspect that I learned this identification from the people and societal practices around me. And I imagine that this is true for most of us.

We read the story of the Grinch in such a way that it reinforces our own perceived virtue. It reminds us that despite the trappings around us, we, like the Whos, are not fooled by them. It is through our true understanding of Christmas that we help change the Grinches around us. We all want to see ourselves this way and I imagine that desire directs us away from a more self-critical analysis of the story.

If we allow the story to reflect our practices and habits back to us as a mirror, I believe a different picture emerges. The Whos do not represent the virtue within us. Rather, they represent the virtue to which we aspire. The Grinch, then, becomes the character with which we most identify. This reading allows us to look deeply into ourselves to discover the ways that our Christmas traditions deceive us.



How might the anxiety, dread and fatigue produced by our material and consumer Christmastime traditions contribute to a spiritual amnesia? Might we, like the Grinch, need to extract the Christmas trappings around us from our vision in order to grow our understanding of the true joy of Christmas?



In the end, a story like the Grinch can serve to underwrite our perceived virtue or it can challenge us to live more faithfully. If we truly desire to follow the life and teachings of the One we seek to celebrate at Christmas, then the latter will guide our Christmas reflection.

Jason Williams is a graduate of the Baptist Theological Seminary of Richmond and a member of Hyaets, an intentional Christian community in the heart of the Enderly Park neighborhood of Charlotte, NC. A verson of this article is taken from their Advent Guide, Forgotten Joy, which can be found on their website: http://www.hyaets.org/.

I Invite You to Join Me in the Recovery of a Christian Christmas

By Rev. Randy Carter

Please read the title of this article. Yes, a “Christian Christmas.” It seems strange that the Christian church would have to fight to recover a season in the church calendar that has the word “Christ” in it. But, would you disagree that much of what happens in our culture during Christmas has nothing whatsoever to do with the remembrance of Jesus Christ, God in the flesh? Is Christmas even recognizable beyond an exercise in rampant, unbridled consumerism? Ask your children, “What is your favorite thing about Christmas?” Will they answer the family meal, the visit to Grandma and Grandpa, or the special parties and get-togethers with friends and others in the community? No. They will answer with one word: presents.

Presents are good. I give presents during Christmas. In fact, gift-giving during Christmas can be a sign of the divine gift-giving we celebrate at Christmas. If we can remember why we give gifts during the Christmas season, we can utilize the practice to teach the real lesson: God so loved the world that he gave His very best gift, His only Son, that whoever might receive this gift would receive also the gifts of forgiveness of sins, of hope for the present and future, and of eternal life. I am certain that a Mom with a Wal-Mart basket full of toys wishing Wal-Mart would bring back layaway practices so she could buy more than anyone has ever needed so she can be the coolest Mom ever has missed the point of the divine gift-giving.

It is not only the presents problem. It is a waiting problem. You’ve heard this before from me, but here it comes again. Before December 25th, the season of Advent invites us to wait and anticipate. Advent allows us to hope for Christmas to arrive so that when December 25th (and the 11 days that follow 12/25 that comprise the 12 days of the Christmas season) does arrive we feel joy and excitement that Christmas has come – similar to those who waited for the Messiah and felt joy and excitement over the news of the birth of the Savior. Here is what I think happens too often: we start hearing Christmas music in late October, we are inundated with commercials and sales flyers full of red and green by early November, we celebrate Thanksgiving with our eyes more focused on Black Friday than the bountiful feast before us, and then December finally arrives. All that before December even appears on the calendar! December, then, ends up becoming a pressure-packed month of worry and panic knowing that time is running out before the big day. And, when Christmas Day dawns (literally for many of you with young children), people are so sick and tired of all things Christmas they can hardly wait to see it go. That makes me so sad.

What, then, would recovering a Christian Christmas entail? Much more than I can write in this article, but here’s a start. First, wait and experience Advent. Second, reflect long and hard about the point of the presents and how the practice of gift-giving can be a sign of the great divine gift-giving. Third, ask yourself if your children truly understand Christmas and work to be sure they do. Fourth, if there are 12 days of the Christmas season (12/25 – 1/5), is there anything Christmas-related you can do after 12/25 to take reduce the stress before 12/25? Fifth, can your family find or create a way to serve others this Christmas (again, not just on 12/25, but during the 12 day season)?

What are your ideas? I’d love to hear them.

The Lord be with you all, Randy

Randy Carter is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Hillsborough, NC. This article first appeared in their church newsletter, The Messenger.