Good Gifts

When the supper dishes were done and the gifts were passed out at my Grandma Betty’s on Christmas Eve, I’d plan my unwrapping strategically.  I would kneel down in my usual spot on the right end of the piano bench, where the living room carpet met the kitchen tile, close to the comfort of the Christmas tree, but also close enough to the kitchen table were the fudge pan, cookie plate, and refills of Coke were well within arm’s reach, and I'd sort through my pile of presents.  I was grateful for every gift I got, but I always made it my aim to start out with a bang and end with a bang and also arrange one somewhere in the middle, if I was lucky.  You probably know what “bang” I’m talking about—those gifts that really made an impression.

 

In order to accomplish this goal, I turned to two tried-and-true methods.  One was by observing the gifts—by making careful note of their shapes, sizes, weights, and “shakes”—the various sounds and vibrations they made when shook.  It was all very scientific.   The other was by observing the giver.  When I looked down at that “to-from” sticker on the top left corner of the package and saw my Uncle Jon’s name scrawled in blue ballpoint pen, for example, I immediately knew it was going to be a good one.  Even his handwriting was fun.  It had a buoyant, youthful quality about it, like his personality.  My parents and grandparents were consistent about getting good gifts, but they had more chances to get it right.  Uncle Jon was single at the time, working as a DJ for a non-profit Christian radio station with seven young nieces and nephews to shop for, so he could only afford one gift per kid, with each costing fifteen dollars or less.  He had no room for error, but that was no issue for my expert uncle.  He got it right every time.  Whether it was a Grand Champion horse, a Polly Pocket, or a container of neon Gak, Uncle Jon knew instinctively which gift on my list would make an impact.  He had a knack for giving good gifts.  I guess you could say it was his gift.   
   

Someone else who is fantastic at giving gifts—in fact, the best gift giver, is God.  James 1:17 says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.”  When I found that verse at the bottom of my calendar this month, it hit me just how fitting it was for Christmastime, a season celebrated with gifts and glowing colored lights.
 

Jesus also spoke of his Father’s notoriety for good gift-giving in Matthew 7:11, where He said, “If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!”
 

The Message translation of Ephesians 4:8,10 paints a vivid picture of God as the ultimate Gifter:  “…He climbed the high mountain, He captured the enemy and seized the booty, He handed it all out in gifts to the people…He handed out gifts above and below, filled heaven with his gifts, filled earth with his gifts.”
 

Such words stir up images of Santa Claus and his nine trusty reindeer, streaking across the black, starry sky on an annual mission to scatter gifts to all of the good little boys and girls of the earth, with jingling bells and a jovial “Ho, ho, ho!” echoing throughout the frosty atmosphere.  While such imagery warms the heart, the thing about the Father of lights is that he’s real, and His gifts don’t only come once a year.
 

Though His gifts may not come in conspicuous boxes tied with bows, they are nonetheless genuine in existence.  Ephesians 4:11-12 goes onto describe the nature of several of these gifts:  “He handed out gifts of apostle, prophet, evangelist, and pastor-teacher to train Christ’s followers in skilled servant work, working within Christ’s body, the church” (The Message).  1 Corinthians 12:8-10 lists more as “wise counsel, clear understanding, simple trust, healing the sick, miraculous acts, proclamation, distinguishing between spirits, tongues, [and] interpretation of tongues” (The Message).
 

When I’ve gotten good gifts in the past, I’ve tended to hold them close.  If I received a nice, new pair of jeans from my mom, I’d wear them every day until the butt got saggy or they started to get that icky, stale smell, then I’d toss them in the dirty clothes and once they were clean, I’d go on wearing them for another week.  If it was a new CD from one of my favorite bands, I’d play it in our kitchen stereo over and over again until I learned all the words, forcing my poor family to learn them, too.  If it was a plump, bright yellow bag of Sour Patch Kids at the bottom of my stocking, those candies would be gone within an hour. 
 

Those gifts were special, they were mine, and I treated them as such.  I’ve realized in recent years that I’ve taken on a similar attitude towards spiritual gifts bestowed by the Father.  I can honestly say that, to this day, I’m still not 100% certain what mine are, but I have taken “spiritual gift inventories” to get an idea for what they might be.  These inventories are multiple choice questionnaires, similar to personality tests and vocational interest inventories one takes to discover personal strengths and weaknesses, but with a special focus on spiritual gifts.  Once such inventories spat out my results, I pinned them proudly to my chest like a corsage, feeling good because I was “gifted,” and I added them to a mental list of attributes that made me, me, right next to my eye color and dream to be the lead singer in a band.
 

I even recall chitchatting with other Christians at a college retreat after we’d taken such an inventory, excitedly asking each other, “What did you get?”  It wasn’t so different from the way my three sisters and I used to peer across the mess of presents in Grandma’s living room at one another as we opened ours up in age-descending order (and every other year, in ascending order).  In addition to building the anticipation, the main reason my family opened gifts one-by-one was so we could see what everyone got, and we did it with all of our gifts—each and every last one of them.
 

There is nothing wrong with being enthusiastic about a gift—in fact, I’m pretty sure that’s the point of having one given to you—but, in the case of spiritual gifts, I do see a problem with embracing a gift as your own, and leaving it at that. 
 

As I was reflecting on spiritual gifts one day several years ago, it suddenly dawned on me that they’re truly of a different sort than your average, everyday offering.  Yes, they’re gifts we get to keep, and titles we get to wear, but they’re also gifts we’re meant to share.  Spiritual gifts are not just gifts unto ourselves—they’re also gifts for other people.  They’re not just gifts we get, but also gifts we get to give, allowing us to experience the best of both worlds.  Though fairly simple, this is a hard concept to grasp because it goes against the grain of what we’ve been taught.  When someone’s put a lot of thought into choosing the perfect gift for you, you hang onto it and cherish it, because to do otherwise would be considered rude or ungrateful.  It’s different with spiritual gifts.  God places them in our hands that they might be passed along, but passing them along does not leave us empty-handed, as one might assume.  After all is said and done, we still get to remain “gifted” by God, equipped by the Holy Spirit to fill the hands and hearts of others, and our own hearts in the process.
 

Scripture supports these thoughts.  In referring to spiritual gifts, 1 Corinthians 12:7 says, “But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to each one for the profit of all…” (emphasis mine.)  1 Corinthians 14:12 also says, “Even so you, since you are zealous for spiritual gifts, let it be for the edification of the church that you seek to excel” (emphasis mine).  In Matthew 10:8, Jesus reminds His disciples, “Freely you have received, freely give.”  And let’s not forget Acts 20:35, where Jesus is also recorded as saying, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
 

In early elementary school, I had a teacher who organized a gift exchange for our class Christmas party.  Girls were supposed to purchase items for girls, and boys were supposed to purchase items for boys, with the value not to exceed five dollars.  I remember going to Kmart with my mom to pick out my girl’s gift the night before the party.  I chose something I wanted for myself:  a box of color-changing markers tipped with stamps in shapes like hearts, smiley faces, and stars.  They were the coolest markers I’d ever seen. 
 

At the end of the party the next day—the last day before Christmas vacation—my teacher separated the boys and girls into two circles, gave each of us a gift, and played some fast-paced holiday music from the tape player on her desk.  When the music started, we were to pass the present to the person on our left and continue passing every gift that reached our hands until the music stopped. Each time the teacher pressed pause, we were teased into thinking that the gift in our laps was the one we got to keep, but then the music would suddenly start playing again.  There was a lot of shrieking and giggling.  I remember watching my markers make their way from the hands of one cross-legged peer to the next, towards me and away, over and over again.  They may have been hidden beneath my mom’s expert wrapping, but I knew exactly what they were, and I wanted them.  I secretly hoped they’d find themselves caught within my greedy grasp when the music stopped for good.
 

They didn’t. 

 

I got a neon pink and blue squishy ball instead, and actually, I liked it.  A lot.  In fact, it was the coolest ball I’d ever seen.  Go figure.  And as for “my” markers—they halted in the hands of another girl sitting across from me.  I watched her closely as she tore away the red and green paper.  I recognized the cautious expectancy that emanated from her as she simultaneously braced herself for both delight and disappointment. 
 

I kept watching as she shed the remaining scraps of paper and examined the naked box, stripped of mystery.  And then I saw it—the smile—the undeniable stamp of approval that graced her face as she shouted, “Look what I got!” and took the pack of markers directly to her desk.  She immediately started using them, changing purple to pink, red to yellow, and dark blue to light blue.  Girly symbols covered the page as she stamped it with peace signs, butterflies, flowers, and, of course, smiling faces to match her own. 
 

It had been a good gift—I knew it for sure when the artist-at-work drew an audience of curious classmates, sucking on candy canes and shouting suggestions as they surrounded her desk.  As I happily mashed my new squishy ball between clasped hands and took in the scene, I sensed her heart was as full of all the warmth and joy that Christmas had to offer. 
 

I know mine was.

 

 

All Scripture was taken from the New King James Version of the Bible, unless otherwise noted.