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Hallowing Christ on Halloween

I posted this article last year, and have been meaning to repost it. Obviously we’ve been a bit preoccupied the last week and a half, and I’d hoped to share this earlier in the month. But I thought I’d go ahead and post it today. My husband wrote this article for our church’s website about how Christians should interact with the holiday of Halloween.

What are your plans for trick-or-treat this year? Will you lock the door, turn off the porch light and retire to the basement? Will you go shopping, or out to eat? Or will you embrace the reality that dozens of little lost souls are parading up to your front door with their hands out, asking you to give them something — anything?

For the first few years of our marriage, Joy and I were the former. To us, participating in any Halloween activity was an endorsement of the demonic. It meant we were OK with the fake human cadavers and the blood-soaked mock murder scenes up and down our street. To us, Halloween had gone way too far, and we were not about to participate. In hindsight, that was not a biblical response.

As years went by, we became convicted as we began to see that the Bible calls us to have a much different attitude toward society. Instead of burying our heads in the sand and plugging our ears, we are to be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13). Instead of turning our backs on what’s going on in society, we are to shine as lights in the world (Philippians 2:15). Salt cannot have a seasoning effect if it is left in the cupboard. It must come in contact with blandness before its saltiness can be realized.

Not to mention the biblical commands to show hospitality (Romans 12:13; 1 Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:8; 1 Peter 4:9). By holing up in our house, we were sending an unspoken message “not welcome” to our closest neighbors, many of whom we had never met — and many of whom probably didn’t know Christ.

We often think of hospitality as entertaining friends in our home for a meal. But the true definition of hospitality differs on three levels. First, hospitality doesn’t necessarily involve an invitation. Secondly, hospitality is extended to strangers, not friends. And thirdly, hospitality isn’t limited to your home.

If you want to get really technical, hospitality is making an uninvited stranger feel welcome in the space where God has placed you, no matter where that is. It can mean welcoming a stranger into your office at work. It can mean extending a warm greeting to a new face at church. It can mean putting your briefcase in your lap on the bus so someone can sit next to you. There are hundreds of other examples.

Halloween is a magnificent opportunity to show the love of Christ to strangers, which moves us much closer to the true definition of hospitality. Sure, these passing strangers are dressed funny and are lugging candy-filled pillow cases. But consider that no other 2-hour window during the year affords us such an obvious opportunity to reflect the glory of Christ to our community.

Joy and I still hand out candy like everyone else, but we include an invitation card to our church. It is subtle. But each time we drop one in a bag, we lift up a prayer that the card will make its way into a home that needs Christ, or that needs a church home. Our job is to plant the seeds and God will grant the fruit in His providence. You may want to use Gospel tracts. Either way, it’s a tremendous opportunity to reach out to the neighborhood with the message of hope.

It was only a few years ago that God helped me to see that as a believer, I had something of infinite value to offer to the witches, goblins, super heroes and scarecrows — and their parents — who graced our front door every year. And that removing myself from trick-or-treat was a terrible mistake. I was wasting our opportunity to simply show the love of Christ, drop an invitation to church into their pillow case — and who knows, maybe even start a conversation that leads to sharing the Gospel.

So this year, don’t retreat to the back bedroom or the basement. Turn on all the outside lights. Open your door and do everything you can to make your house an outpost of heaven — and your life a salty seasoning to your lost neighbors who need Christ. You won’t have this easy an opportunity until next year!

Two Burning Questions

How are we doing?
I think we’re doing fairly well. We’re keeping busy during the day, working to find new homes for Elli’s equipment and supplies, sort out the life insurance questions, figure out how to get the van back that we drove 5 hours away for a conversion (fortunately they hadn’t started yet), and choose a grave stone. We think about her constantly — how much fun she must be having now that she is healed and whole.

Yet, we miss her. I am struck every day by new ways that Elli’s departure has changed our lives.

I no longer need to puree food at dinner.
I only fold clothes and stack them into 5 piles, not 6.
The endless list of phone calls, forms, appointments, and emails that I worked on for the last 8 years and 8 months for Elli is completed.
I don’t keep music playing nonstop anymore, because Elli isn’t home to ask for it.
We don’t have to park our cars at an angle in the garage anymore, because we no longer need clearance for her wheelchair ramp into the van. (We keep parking that way out of habit, though.)
Instead of insurance EOBs (explanations of benefits) and hospital bills, our mailbox is full of cards and letters. Getting real, personal mail has been great!
The wheelchair bus doesn’t stop by our house anymore.
Julie and Patrice aren’t here every weekday to help me with Elli anymore. I miss their company greatly.
Going somewhere as a family feels so different. I am painfully aware of how normal we look because Elli doesn’t go with us anymore.

I am thankful for the years we had with her. I wanted her to be with us longer, but I know that God had a perfect plan for her life. He has a plan for our lives as well, though we don’t yet know what He wants us to do next. I am curious though. Elli’s death marks a dramatic change of direction for us. We’re still in the curve though and don’t yet know where this leads.

How are the kids doing?
Our kids are also doing well. Little Girl keeps asking where Elli is, so she is still trying to figure out what happened. She really misses having a sister and has asked us if she can have a big sister again. We’ve explained that she has 2 girl cousins, but that is small consolation when you’ve lost a sister.

Little Boy misses Patrice and Julie, and he misses Elli’s equipment. He loved playing with her Dynavox, climbing up her wheelchair, and hanging out with her aides. We had Julie over for dinner last night, and the look on his face as he greeted her and reached up to be held was priceless.

Big Boy is very quiet about everything. I think that he is very worried about me, in particular. He has given me lots of hugs and kisses. He drew me the sweetest picture last week: a vase with flowers in it, my handprint, and a ton of hearts drawn all around it. I think it’s going to take quite some time for him to sort through everything.

So, we move forward in confidence that God is still on His throne. We move forward in His perfect peace that passes all understanding. And we still cry because we miss Elli so much.

This was one of Elli’s favorite songs. When we play it at home, I think of her and wonder if she’s singing it to Jesus Himself.

Glory, by Selah

One day eyes that are blind will see you clearly
And one day all who deny will finally believe
One day hearts made of stone will break in pieces
And one day chains once unbroken will fall down at your feet
So we wait for that one day come quickly

We want to see your Glory
Every knee falls down before thee
Every tongue offers you praise
With every hand raised
Singing Glory
To you and unto you only
We’ll sing Glory to Your name

One day voices that lie will all be silent
One day all that’s divided will be whole again
One day death will retreat and wave it’s white flag
One day love will defeat the strongest enemy
So we wait for that one day come quickly

We want to see your Glory
Every knee falls down before thee
Every tongue offers you praise
With every hand raised
Singing Glory
To you and unto you only
We’ll sing Glory to Your name

We know not the day or the hour
Or the moments in between
But we know the end of the story
When we’ll see

We want to see your Glory
Every knee falls down before thee
Every tongue offers you praise
With every hand raised
Singing Glory
To you and unto you only
We’ll sing Glory to Your name

God’s Lent Child

Elli’s grandma and aunt read this poem at Elli’s memorial service. It was sent to us by a friend, from another friend who had lost a child recently. It expresses well the way we understand parenthood — that we are stewards of the children in our families, not their owners, and that God gives them to us to raise for a time.

God’s Lent Child
by Florence Correa

I’ll lend you for a little while a child of mine, God said,
For you to love her while she lives, and mourn for when she’s dead.

It may be six or seven years, or forty-two or three;
But will you, till I call her back, take good care of her for me?

I’ll bring her charms to gladden you, and should her stay be brief,
You’ll have the lovely memories as a solace for your grief.

I cannot promise she will stay, since all from earth return;
But there are lessons taught below I want this child to learn.

I’ve searched the whole world over, for teachers kind and true;
And from the throngs that crowd life’s lane I have chosen you…

Now will you give her all your love? Nor think the labor vain?
Nor hate me should the angels call, to take this child back again?

To which the parents did reply, Dear Lord, Thy will be done.
For all the joys thy child will bring, the risk of grief we’ll run.

We’ll shelter her with tenderness, We’ll love her while we may…
For all the love this child will bring, forever grateful we will stay.

But should the Angels call for her much sooner than we’ve planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.

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