What You Were Made To Do

One of my favorite Christmas decorations is an animatronic caroler that sits in the corner of my living room. We found her during a trip to a local antique market last winter. She is wearing a green dress with a red cape and a red hat in the Elizabethan style (think A Christmas Carol). She is holding a candle in her right hand. When you turn the power on she begins to rotate her head to the left and then to the right while opening and closing her arms. If you turn all of the lights off except for the Christmas decorations, her candle causes weird shadows and shading to come and go on her face. I lovingly refer to her as “Creepy Carol the Christmas Caroler.”

“Why in the world do you have that creepy doll in your house?!”

Sometimes, after it gets dark, I like to sit in the dark and just look at our Christmas decorations. I enjoy looking at the various decorations that we’ve collected through the years and think of Christmases past and all that we experienced during those years. I enjoy looking at the colorful lights and reflecting on the hope that the Christ of Christmas brings.  I enjoy looking at our various nativity sets in the dim lighting and considering the details of the stories surrounding the first Christmas. As I was looking and reflecting recently, I suddenly became very aware of Creepy Carol the Christmas Caroler. I carefully watched her for some time, all the while thinking to myself, “Why in the world do you have that creepy doll in your house?!”

There is no clear connecting point that should cause us to put her on display. She didn’t belong to a beloved family member. She doesn’t have any historical significance. She has no real connection to any major Christmas story. Truthfully, my wife and kids aren’t big fans of Creepy Carol (I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the “creepy” factor). Yet, there she stands, shining her light throughout my house.

She does nothing spectacular. She just stands in the corner of the room, going through the motions in perpetuity. She moves, but she never gets anywhere. It would be easy to believe that this poor pitiful doll gets nothing done at all, that she does nothing. For a brief moment I felt sorry for Creepy Carol. Then it hit me; while Creepy Carol doesn’t do anything spectacular, she does exactly what she was designed to do. She does nothing more and nothing less, and that’s all she needs to do.

It would seem, then, that we’re all called to be like Creepy Carol the Christmas Caroler. We were made to stand tall, shining our lights around the room.

As I considered all of this in the quiet darkness, I had an epiphany. Creepy Carol is on display in my house because I am Creepy Carol. I feel a deep connection to this lifeless doll because she represents how I feel at times. There are times when I feel like that robotic doll. I feel like I am just going through the motions. I stand in my small corner of the world, doing the best I can to shine light into the darkness. I am doing the best I can possibly do, but I wonder if I’m really making a difference. I wonder, am I doing enough?

In Matthew 5:14-16, Jesus says, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in Heaven.” It would seem, then, that we’re all called to be like Creepy Carol the Christmas Caroler. We were made to stand tall, shining our lights around the room. And, while it may feel like we’re just going through the motions at times, perhaps that’s all we need to do. Do the good that you can do and know that it’s enough. Perhaps that’s exactly what we were made to do.