I spent my first Christmas away from my family when my job took me to an assignment in a foreign country, beginning in early December. Christians were a hidden minority. They didn’t worship openly, but I found a house church.

Our celebration of Christmas was probably nearer the first Christmas than the ones I celebrated as I was growing up. Certainly the scenery resembled the first one. Nobody dragged around Christmas trees or watched movies about a white Christmas or Rudolph or Frosty the Snowman. This scenery included desert scrub and flocks of sheep and even camels if you ventured far enough away from the city.

A British couple invited me to Christmas dinner. I learned about those party favors that you pull apart to make a snap sound. I don’t remember what we had to eat, but it probably wasn’t a turkey, and ham was forbidden in that country. Mainly, I enjoyed the fellowship with new friends who shared my beliefs about the reason for Christmas.

The next year I asked for leave during the Christmas holidays and traveled to the U.S. to spend the season with my family. I couldn’t wait to attend a real Christmas Eve service with carols and a real choir and evergreens and children dressed in bathrobes and all the other trappings of my religion at Christmas.

Being with my family was wonderful, but I was disappointed when I didn’t receive the high I was expecting from the service. It was nice, but I guess I’d built myself up for it too much.

In the years ahead, I spent other Christmases in lands that didn’t officially celebrate the holiday, where, for the local folk, it was just another work day. Forget open Yuletide decorating—not advised because it might offend. I chose gifts from catalogs and let Amazon or Lands’ End send them to family members. No rushing around crowded malls to become jaded by hearing Jingle Bells for the 1,000th time. Instead, I remember a carol sing in a private home and a clandestine Christmas concert.

Today, back home, I just can’t get into the swing of the normal Christmas. I keep remembering celebrations of simple gatherings to fellowship and remember Christ’s birth.

Who hasn’t pondered why God, if he is good, allows evil? We, desiring justice, want God to intervene when injustice happens. Our innate wish for good, C. S. Lewis said, and our belief that evil should not triumph is one argument for the existence of God.

Nevertheless, the question remains, why?

As a writer, I have some thoughts.

An idea comes to me. Out of the idea, I create a story. I create characters to populate the story. And then the characters act according to their natures. I have created them, but having done so, I must let them act according to who they are. They are separate from me.

As many writers will tell you, characters take off and do things you did not intend them to do, things you don’t want them to do. Eventually, you finish writing the story, leading to the ends you desire. Sometimes you must bring in other characters that weren’t in the original story to get to the end, or other plots, or other insights—but eventually you, the creator, end the story.

This illustration is merely that, an illustration. I do think, though, that God, having created us, must give us the freedom to act, else it’s not a story. And God has created a story of sorts, with us as characters who have the freedom to be sub creators and choose our own story.

But, I believe, the story is God’s. He will lead it to the end he desires. We may decide to choose to be a part of the end God is leading toward, or not. We are free to choose.

The question for the TV panel, a collection of famous Americans, including one religious leader, was: “Whose side is God on if the different religions all say God is on their side?”

The panel members stumbled to answer, but I think the question is invalid because it assumes we have a “side” and God comes at our beck and call to join us.

The question, it seems to me, should be “Who is on God’s side?”

We don’t set up our own little worlds and invite God to bless them. It’s God who sets up the universe and we either choose or don’t choose to go along with his way of doing things.

So what is his way of doing things?

As a Christian, I’d say we’re headed in the right direction if we judge a society by how well it takes care of the widow and the orphan, that is, those on the margins, those with little power.

Amos is one of many prophets of the Old Testament who castigate a society where the rich loll in luxury and slant the rules their way so the poor don’t have a chance.

Jesus appears to be concerned about the vulnerable as well. Remember his story of the rich man and the poor beggar, Lazarus? The rich man ignored Lazarus’ needs and was condemned for it.

Another rich man thought only of building bigger barns to store his wealth. God called him a fool.

In Jesus’ parable of the last judgement, justice is meted out on the basis of whether one
has fed the hungry, given drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, given clothes to the naked, and visited the sick and imprisoned.

I see nothing wrong with material success for work well done, for new ideas and entrepreneurship.  But what do you do with your wealth? Is it just the wealth and what it can buy, ad infinitum? Once you have food, clothing, shelter, and a few toys for fun (nothing wrong with an occasional banquet), why more? Warren Buffett and Bill Gates (senior and junior) have the right idea, I think. Once you reach a certain level, use the wealth for the good of society, for our fellow creatures.

How well do we take care of the vulnerable, those with little power? If we’re concerned that our society be on God’s side, that’s a good place to start.