Christmas can be better than this

I think the Killers are brilliant. They are singing about themes that we all wrestle with. If you personally identity with either one of the characters in these videos you need to know that there is a better way.

The emptiness that some people feel at Christmas. “Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” -Ecclesiastes 1:2

The nagging guilty conscience that tells us that we have been naughty. A hellish way to live. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them.” -Romans 2:15

The idea that there’s a force of love and logic behind the universe is overwhelming to start with, if you believe it. Actually, maybe even far-fetched to start with, but the idea that that same love and logic would choose to describe itself as a baby born in straw and poverty is genius, and brings me to my knees, literally. To me, as a poet, I am just in awe of that. It makes some sort of poetic sense. It’s the thing that makes me a believer, though it didn’t dawn on me for many years. -Paul David Hewson

A Killer Christmas

Anything you worship (besides God) will eat you alive…David Foster Wallace

The Killers are reminding us that it’s possible to waste our lives looking for things that don’t satisfy us. If we are not careful we can overlook the blessings we have already been given. Powerful reminder for this Christmas season. This song and the reference to “It’s A Wonderful Life” (one of my all-time favorite movies) makes me teary-eyed.

Baby Son-John Mark McMillan

 

We thought you’d come with a crown of gold
A string of pearls and a cashmere robe
We thought you’d clinch an iron fist
And rain like fire on the politics
But without a sword, no armored guard
But common born in mother’s arms
The government now rests upon
The shoulders of this baby son
Have you no room inside your heart
The inn is full, the out is dark
Upon profane shines sacred sun
Not ashamed to be one of us
Without a sword, no armored guard
But common born in mother’s arms
The government now rests upon
The shoulders of this baby son
Gloria, Allelu
Christ the Lord
We’ve longed for you