Why the Cookies Aren't the Point

Hannah already beat me to blogging about the cookies, but this has been on my mind a lot lately, so here we go.

A couple of weeks ago, a few people at our church decided they wanted to organize a "St. Nicholas-style cookie drop" for the low-income, drug-ridden neighborhood around it, dropping little bags of cookies at each door, with no church advertisement or hidden agenda but with a simple note saying, Merry Christmas, you are thought of. The idea was that, however small, this gesture might be the only indication some of these neighbors get that they are valued and remembered this Christmas. The plan was received well, but it was also met with many questions about logistics: "We're going door to door in a meth neighborhood, at 5:00 in the evening, delivering...cookies? Is that safe?" Or "Who's going to eat these random cookies left on the porch in anonymous bags?" Or "Won't someone's dog or cat eat the cookies?" All legitimate concerns - I probably wouldn't eat random cookies that I found on my doorstep. Unless I just really had a craving for something sweet, then maybe I would.

We were talking about this in House Church last week, and someone shared how she had all of these concerns when she heard about the cookie-drop idea, and how she thought it was kind of pointless, but that after thinking it over some more, she realized: the cookies weren't the point. The point was to give something to people who never get surprise gifts or Christmas cookies. The point was to share something in this commercialized, dollar-drive holiday season without agenda or without a requirement of recognition. The point was that our small church, with the few resources we have, found a way to show people they were cared for, even if it was by dropping some baked goods in plastic bags on their front porch. How often do we get stuck on the cookies? How frequently do we get so preoccupied with whether they're the right shape, the right fluffiness, or the right texture, that we forget to taste them and enjoy them (which is why we bake them in the first place, right?)? Life is what happens when you're obsessing about cookies, apparently.

This all relates, I promise. This Advent season is really the first time in a while that I think I have truly comprehended the meaning of Christmas. Duh, it's Jesus' birthday. But it's also a time of great hope, and of looking to the future with anticipation because we've been given a frame of reference in which to live our lives and to love each other. It's a time of celebration because we believe in the promise that He will return and make all things new. And Advent is the waiting period that leads up to that celebration, a time to prepare our hearts to really comprehend joy.

When Scott (the pastor, not the husband) kicked off our Advent series this year, something he said stuck with me. Our whole lives are spent waiting. Waiting for stability, waiting for love, waiting to make it out of a depression, waiting for happiness, waiting for "real life" to start. Whatever it is, we're all waiting for something, and once that thing gets here, it'll be something else. So, because we're always waiting, Scott pointed out, "we better learn to do it right." What does "waiting right" mean? It means setting our sights on what we're waiting for, but instead of just having a vague hope that it will come someday, taking action to prepare ourselves for that time. It means focusing on what's around me, on the people in and out of my life, in my everyday interactions that should have meaning but don't because I'm too busy worrying about the next important thing. It means having the craziest hope for the promise that Christ has made, but in the meantime, letting the reality of that hope transform us and the way we live.

So, the cookies aren't the point; the point is what we do with them. The point is not to obsess about where, who, or what next. The point is what we do with what we've been given now to be God's Kingdom on earth while we're waiting for it to come. It's hard to get that the cookies aren't the point, and they're not the point because we have hope, transforming hope. Life's what happens when you're waiting for the cookies to bake. What are you waiting for?