Growing Christmas

                                                     Growing Christmas


It had been twelve years since The Disaster. No one in the organization was allowed to refer to it, especially by its real name. But it couldn't be ignored. It happened. It was real. It was The Disaster, so when it needed to be referenced, that was how it was done. The Disaster, period.

Now twelve years later, the effects of it where being felt throughout the organization in a horribly fast acceleration of losses. A special council was called by the Master. Only the top twelve heads of the organization's family would attend. They were known by many names, mostly beginning with the letter "d" to alliterate with the word "dozen." They had no official name, they were just referred to as "the twelve."

They arrived at the meeting to find their places at a perfectly square table with three associates to each side. The master was seen almost magically in front of each group as one side looked above the heads of the side opposite them. Except for the light illuminating from the master's head, and an eerie glow from the participant's eyes, the meeting room was dark. The master hissed his concerns.....

"We have a problem. The Enemy's followers have started to celebrate his becoming flesh. The Disaster was bad enough but now this. Their theologians have started to use the word "incarnation." Their common idiots simply refer to his birth. They are praying, reflecting, and building worship times dedicated to it. Our intel believes with good authority that a whole season will develop around its meaning and will take the name "Christmas."  It must be stopped. This council is called to formulate a plan for the destruction of this "Christmas" horror lest the problems of The Disaster are compounded. Give me your ideas."

The side with the demons of Conquest, Imitation, and False Religion spoke first. "We will use our cloak of deception to eliminate Christmas. We will conquer lands with our deceptions and use false hope in powerful men, politics, and religion to keep their minds blinded."

"That is a good plan," The Master spoke.  "But it is not enough. The Enemy's ways can work around those defenses. Their must be more!"

"Our side has a plan," spoke Power. Power, War, and Vainglory stood up. " Our plan will keep them fighting, killing, and spending their resources to do more fighting and killing. We can even get them to fight in the Enemies name, making them believe that their God is demanding they fight. Their egos will become so large that if they think it, they will think their God put it in their minds. They will always be at war, planning war, training for war, spending for war, recovering from war, seeking the spoils of war and seeking more power to wage war better. They will become either too busy or too bitter to see or believe the Incarnation's true meaning. In time they will worship the power their government has and confuse it with true worship of the Enemy.

"Another  good plan." But we need more...."

"We have more." Into the conversation the side of Famine, Fear, and Despair now entered. "We will use the little pests fears against them. We will build on Conquest and War. We will add famine, fear, and finally hopeless despair. When they are hungry, when they are fearful of not getting food or their way, or their money, they will give up hope and be ripe for the picking. Our Enemy can promise them eternal glory but when their stomach or their egos growl with emptiness they will think His promise is empty. Their "Christmas" will be the last thing on their minds."

"Well done. But I fear these efforts are not sufficient. Our Enemy is not without powers. He meets needs. He heals diseases in His way and time.  He helps them find purpose in their pain. He walks with them in their trials. He opens heaven to them. These notions are good but inadequate..."

"But there is more." A squeaky, effeminate voice was barely heard. "Speak up, you little twerp and remind me why I even put you on this council," boomed the raspy hiss of the master." "Yes, master. Hear my plan." The voice was from a quiet, cunning, manipulative, greedy, grotesque little demon. It was a Sckillet. It was actually above a Power or even a Principality but its work was so secretive that even the other demons didn't know what it was doing. They hated him. Even the master hated him. Of course, he hated everyone and everything. But the Sckillet he especially hated. He believed, rightly so, that the Sckillet would take his throne if possible. But the master also needed it. As horrible as it was, it was very good at evil.

At that point the Sckillet placed a bright red bag on the table. He untied the end and brought out it contents. There was a box, brightly wrapped in colored paper with a bow on top. There was a replica of a little man in  a red suit and white beard. There was a model of buildings, all tied or grown together with pretty paintings and interesting names above their doors. There was a string that contained little glass bulb-light appendages that glowed and blinked. "What in Hell's name are all these trinkets?" roared the master. "These are how we defuse the enemy's little earthlings of the true meaning of His coming to be with them and, and, well, you know The Disaster. We actually let Christmas grow."

"What??? Screamed the eleven. "We must Conquer it, Starve it, Kill it!"

"And we shall by letting it grow from what it is into what it is not. As the enemy transforms their lives, we will quietly be transforming the things that point to that truth in the Incarnation and the Disaster. We will own Christmas by making it about magic not truth. It will be about shopping not serving. It will focus on twinkling lights, when they are invented, instead of the light of the world. We will take good things for the earthlings, like the invention of lights, and use them to confuse them. We will take gifts given to the Enemy by the Wise Men and use their greed to pervert the gesture to giving each other gifts. We will take the story of a jolly saint and use the wonder and imagination of kids urged on by their parents to set their hearts on one called Santa Claus and build a wonder, magical world where they are focus as he brings them gifts. Ha, ha, ha, they will spend so much time, money, energy, and effort on Christmas that their Christ will be lost in it. And then, in one day, it will be over. The greatness of the plan is it is based on fantasy, not reality. It sees the now, and loses the eternal."

The master smiled. "How long will it take?"

"Give me twenty, twenty-one centuries tops. We will own Christmas!" the Sckillet snarled.

And for the only time recorded, Hell filled with laughter.

Cos
(getting it back next week)