The Christmas memories that I treasure most are littered with images of me on the floor in front of a lighted tree. I have many wonderful mental snapshots in which I can see my dad setting up players in an electric football game, pounding a wooden slat into a hole on a small scale work bench, or pushing a fire truck in the direction of a pileup of unfortunate action figures. But as the slide show continues, the pictures change to show me as the grown-up, taking a taste of one of my daughter's imaginary culinary masterpieces, helping my son save the world with one of his superhero action figures, or purposely trying to pick the wrong card in a game of matching images so that one of my little ones can experience the thrill of victory.
Those are the memories that make me smile.
It is interesting to note, however, that my joy was never truly completed by the game or toy I was playing with. Sure, in my youth those things were special; but what made the moment truly meaningful, the thing that gave them the power to become immortal in my mind, was the fact that my dad was involved in the act of playing with them, with me. And when I grew up and had children of my own, and when the toys lost the allure that they once had, the joy never diminished--I still found that pictures of joy were being forever etched in the photo album of my mind. And if the truth be known, the joy of those moments of playing on the floor became even more exciting when the joy ceased to be dependent upon the toys that were involved.
As a child, it was great to spend time rolling around on the floor with my toys and my dad. I liked my toys, and I loved my dad--how could it get any better? But as an adult, the joy was found in the idea that my children liked the toys--that they were happy with the things I had given them--and that they were willing to want me to share in the joy that they were experiencing.
When I think about God, I know that he gives us good things. I also know that it pleases Him when we enjoy the gifts. His joy begins with the happiness that His gifts bring to us. The gifts mean nothing to God; our response to His presents is what matters. When we appreciate God's goodness and generosity towards us, He smiles. But I don't think His happiness is complete until we do one more thing. That one thing is to get down on the floor and share the joy of our gifts with the One who gave us those gifts.
That, I am certain, is when God's joy is full.
And I think, it might be when ours is, too.
I think that is what Christmas is. It is that picture of God, through Jesus, getting down on the floor of our world and playing with us. It should make us happy to have Him interact in such a marvelous way. And I know it makes Him happy when that wonderful interaction makes our joy complete.
