The Nightmare Before Christmas...

Last night, during what felt like a time warp back to college days, I found myself simultaneously horrified and pitying. "Do go on," you say? Alright then, let me explain:

After our weekly Thursday night dinner, the eight of us decided to look at Christmas lights. So we piled into two cars, not in a heterogenous mix, but in a "girl car" and a "boy car." Ironically, we girls got the big red truck (deemed "Lady Bug" by the wife and "Thor" by the husband), and the boys got the black sedan. Thus, the time warp. Instantly I felt as if I were twenty again-- the windows were rolled down (giving me Irishhag hair and goosebumps, but who cared?), Mariah Carey was howling into the night, and the four of us were howling right along-- four college friends, behaving as we did five years ago. And then, when we had gone through a decent street of lights and then a cul-de-sac with lights that blinked to music, we happened to turn around and chanced to stop next to the boy car. Windows rolled down. The boy car was having a markedly less fun experience than the girl car, as I heard neither Mariah Carey nor howling.

We journeyed on into the ghetto of St. Pete in search of a house that had been heralded as the #3 best house on the "Today Show," and #1 by I don't know who. Sketchier and sketchier were the neighborhoods, and when we made a pit stop at a Walgreens that had an iron fence around it, I feared for my life. Yet we made it. We parked, the promise of lighted glory ahead of us. It smelled like pickles. We were handed what appeared to be a kind of Christian tract, about which I though, not a bad idea-- they have lots of people who come and go looking at their lights-- why not take the opportunity to tell them about the REAL meaning of Christmas? And then we got closer. A man blew big bubbles at us. How magical and fun, we thought! Standing in front of the display, which was in fact a home with a few fountains and little rivers on about 1/2 an acre and had created a path through their yard and covered it all with lights and... other accoutrements, we saw a big sign, calling everyone to accept Christ as Lord, repent, and be baptized "fully wet." Apparently to this couple, all three were necessary for salvation.

Now, I began this post with the admission that both horror and pity were among my emotions last night. Up until this point those emotions hadn't come out to play. And then I saw the china dolls dressed as brides under a television with a televangelist preacher doing his thing. These ten bride dolls were near signs asking if our "lamps had gone out," referring incorrectly to the parable of the ten virgins in the Bible. And then of course, there were the faded, tattered, matted stuffed animals HANGING from the trees and the house, including but not limited to: Fred Flintstone, a tucan, myraid teddy bears, and Minnie Mouse. There were so many that it was enough to cause attention deficit disorder in the most calm and collected human being. There were glass showcases filled with dolls depicting scenes of some holiday sort-- all random, haphazard, and having no rhyme or reason, except maybe the theme of psychopathic, homicidal maniac. One of my friends said, "Eight go in, and three come out." We laughed, but inside I think we all felt he might be right.

We went on. There were just too many odds and ends everywhere to fully take in the creepiness of this lights display. There was random open flame and a little tunnel that had a gigantic fake spider affixed to it. On the other side was a gate. Inside that gate we could see Pound Puppies and red lights along with a sign promising something sinister for the dogs, though I can't recall it anymore (probably I blocked it out of my memory and replaced it with happy thoughts). It was about that point when I saw at more Pound Puppies, who were roped together and hanging from a tree and suddenly turned, only to be startled by the man blowing bubbles... only this time he was far too close for comfort, and had sidled up to us so quietly that I nearly had a panic attack.

As we were about to leave, I saw dolls dressed as angels-- dolls who looked like the ones on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who burned up. I said so to another of my friends, who usually will give a laugh no matter how stupid my comment. She didn't laugh. She was thoroughly creeped out. And then I knew this lights display had gone far beyond creepy and now into horror territory. Exiting the display, past a random Barbie doll sitting in the lap of a teddy bear, we all tried to process what we'd just seen. I'm pretty sure this house was ranked #3 on the "Today Show" thirty years ago, because if Matt Lauer and Meredith Viera were to visit, they'd put it #1 on the most horrifying lights display list. Sure this terrifying display of thirty-year-old stuffed animals and decaying dolls was absolutely, ridiculously hilarious, but I also felt pity for the couple who were trying to share the Gospel. Not only were they not doing it in a way that would truly reach out to the culture around them, but also, they didn't quite have the Gospel down. Rather, they added to the already poor image that Christians have, and that made me sad.

And so as my tense body relaxed in the car, thankful to be alive, I reflected a bit on my feeling of pity. I hoped they found the Truth, that salvation comes by grace through faith alone, not baptism. I hoped they realized how scary and culturally oblivious their display was. And I hoped that I would never be guilty of the same thing-- distorting the Message, being culturally oblivious, and giving Christians a bad name.