Cybersalt News

Oh look, Chicken Thursday on Christmas Day!

Susan and I wish you and your loved ones a blessed Christmas! Whether this is a time of great happiness, great difficulty, or a mixture of both, we pray that the love and light of Jesus will shine upon and in your hearts as we celebrate the birth of Jesus - God come to be with us so He could make a way for us to be with Him.

Enjoy the rest of today's Digest. 

~ Pastor Tim 

I think Santa Claus is a woman....

I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she.

Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they--with amazing calm--call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.

Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman.

Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh, amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.

Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.

Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.

Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:

~ Men can't pack a bag.

~ Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.

~ Men would feel their masculinity is threatened, having to be seen with all those elves.

~ Men don't answer their mail.

~ Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described even in jest as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."

~ Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.

~ Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men. Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons. Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick.

Not a chance.

- Unknown

Paleontologists recently unearthed the largest tibia ever recorded ...

It was quite the shindig.

Someone just called my phone, sneezed and then hung up. I'm getting sick and tired of these cold calls.

“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.”

- Luke 2:10

A man is at his finest
towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be
when the Christmas season is here;
Then he's thinking more of others
than he's thought the months before,
And the laughter of his children
is a joy worth toiling for.
He is less a selfish creature than
at any other time;
When the Christmas spirit rules him
he comes close to the sublime.

When it's Christmas man is bigger
and is better in his part;
He is keener for the service
that is prompted by the heart.
All the petty thoughts and narrow
seem to vanish for a while
And the true reward he's seeking
is the glory of a smile.
Then for others he is toiling and
somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas he is almost
what God wanted him to be.

If I had to paint a picture of a man
I think I'd wait
Till he'd fought his selfish battles
and had put aside his hate.
I'd not catch him at his labors
when his thoughts are all of self,
On the long days and the dreary
when he's striving for himself.
I'd not take him when he's sneering,
when he's scornful or depressed,
But I'd look for him at Christmas
when he's shining at his best.

Man is ever in a struggle
and he's oft misunderstood;
There are days the worst that's in him
is the master of the good,
But at Christmas kindness rules him
and he puts himself aside
And his petty hates are vanquished
and his heart is opened wide.
Oh, I don't know how to say it,
but somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas man is almost
what God sent him here to be.

from Collected Verse of Edgar Guest
NY: Buccaneer Books, 1976, pg. 239

Featured Illustrations are items well suited for illustrating or inspiring a point in a sermon, speech, or devotional. Funny, moving, or perhaps even graphic, the point of them is the point you make with them.

Susan Page writes . . . . 

“O holy night! The stars are brightly shining; it is the night of our dear Saviour’s birth. Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.”

It’s hard to imagine that these lyrics were written in 1847, and yet, they have survived the test of time. The relevance of this beautiful Christmas carol reaches deep, touching the soul.

As the words, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn,” run through my mind, emotions erupt, and tears flow. The significance behind these lyrics sinks into the core of my being. This has always been one of my favourite Christmas carols, but each year it takes on a whole new meaning.

The Cybersalt Digest is a ministry of Pastor Tim and Cybersalt.