The Best Present Fills a House

Merry Christmas, all!

On a somewhat-related note, a strange thing happened two days ago. Dave Portnoy, the Jewish founder of a website that caters to people who place illegal bets on sporting events that came to us via pagans, did something unexpected.

I don’t want a job. The thought horrifies me. But if I had to have a job, I would want Portnoy’s secondary career. He goes around the country reviewing pizza joints for his Youtube channel, One Bite Pizza Reviews. If he likes your shop’s pizza, his viewers mob it, and you make a lot of money.

On Monday, he visited Tinybrickoven, a closet-sized pizza place in Baltimore. He was in a hurry, so he couldn’t wait to have a pizza made. He asked them to reheat one.

This probably means he knew what he was up to when he showed up, but let’s ignore that.

The proprietor sold him a pizza and said he was getting ready to close. Portnoy asked what he meant, and he said the shop was closing for good. It wasn’t making money. The proprietor said the problem was that the authorities had refused to give him a liquor license.

Dave gave the pizza a 7.9, which is a very good score. Anything above 7 is worth a visit.

He asked the owner, “How much money do you need to stay open for like a year?” He had a hard time getting an answer, so he said, “Well, if there was somebody super rich right in front of your face who’s in the pizza business, and by serendipity, he’s like, ‘What do you need to stay open for a year?”, you got to give him some figure, because then he’s going to walk away.” Finally, the man said he thought $60,000 would get him a liquor license and allow him to stay open.

Then Dave gave him the money. He told him he was giving him a grant.

That was a nice thing to see. Portnoy gets a lot of criticism. He’s brash, he says harsh things about pretentious leftists, and women have accused him of treating them badly, but he started a foundation that has given tens of millions of dollars to small businesses. Whatever is going on inside of him, it’s not all bad.

What he did was a nice reminder that Christmas is a holiday we owe to Jews who helped gentiles. We celebrate a Jew who died for us and saved us from hell, and his Jewish friends told our ancestors the good news.

It’s best to do charity anonymously, but it’s still a nice story. It reminds us that Christmas is about love, not secular homosexual parades and gifts we buy on credit.

Not much is happening here. My wife’s gift has not arrived from Africa. She’s not in a position to get me anything. She has no job, apart from giving me someone to look after. We haven’t decorated.

Still, I am very happy, because God has answered my prayers.

Before my wife met me, she had a vision. She saw a big white house from a distance. Yeshua came out and walked toward her to welcome her. As she got close to the house, kids came out and hugged her, and she felt overwhelmed with love. I know she had this vision, because she texted a friend about it at the time.

Before I met her, I prayed for God to give me a house of love. Now we have it.

My family is a mess. My dad’s father drank and beat his wife, and then he died young from drinking bad moonshine. My dad’s elder sister was a sick, cold sociopath. My dad hated Christianity, and he grew up to be a drinker and wife-beater who neglected his kids and committed adultery. My mother’s dad was a much better person, but he had no interest in God, and my mother did a very poor job of showing God to my sister and me. My sister was a sociopath who hated me, in the manner of her aunt, who hated my dad.

I don’t really know my cousins on my dad’s side. My mother has one living sister I get along with, but she is tormented. The other has turned out to be very dishonest, and she is verbally abusive to me for no reason. My cousins generally don’t know God, and I haven’t been invited to a family gathering since maybe 1998.

In case you’re wondering, I’m not the problem. People like me, believe it or not. I’m easy to get along with. I’m nice to people. I make them laugh. I try to be helpful. I make friends very easily. I keep my circle small, but that’s a choice. I had all sorts of friends in college and law school. And in church.

I was popular in high school, although not quarterback-popular. I was voted funniest in class. At least two cheerleaders were interested in me. One made overtures after college. So was another one of my class’s top-tier girls. She actually wrote me a two-page letter after she got married.

I didn’t have to worry about where I sat at lunch.

I’m not the person you don’t invite to Thanksgiving or Christmas because he will get drunk and surly and make everyone wish he would leave, or because he’ll start a fight over some slight that happened in 1982. My sister always took the role of holiday-destroyer.

I made no friends when I was in grad school, but I was studying physics, surrounded by physics students, so that was completely normal. You would have to know physics people to understand.

The family gets together without me. It may be because I’m not supposed to see heirlooms they didn’t come by the way they should have.

I have one cousin who has a serious mental illness, and he practices yoga, which invites demons to destroy him. He has been rejected all his life, and I don’t think he has any hope that this will change. I think he feels unloved. I wish he hadn’t been ignored so much. His brother is not right, either, and he is extremely angry at the world. We used to be very close, but that’s over. Another cousin lives in Texas and has almost nothing to do with the rest of us, which I can understand.

Generally, they are unhappy people. Resentful. Not much interested in the welfare of others of the kingdom of God.

I used to love being with them. I loved all three of my aunts. I loved my cousins. I looked forward to Christmas and summer vacations. Now it’s almost like they’re dead.

I know they don’t care a lot about each other. They’re together because of habit. None of them has ever told me how wonderful any of the others were, except for moms bragging about their kids. One of the moms makes things like that up, so it’s for her, not them.

I have seen almost no affection being displayed.

This house is different. It’s full of love. My wife and I love being together. We go everywhere together. We go to each other’s doctor appointments. We pray together twice a day. We are very affectionate. We compliment each other.

I am not ambitious, so I don’t neglect her for my career. I have no interest in drunkenness, other women, TV sports, or selfish pursuits that ruin weekends and prevent me from being a real husband and father.

My wife has no interest in the things that ruin wives. She is not interested in status symbols or social-climbing. She likes working to create a warm, comfortable home. She is excited about having a baby. She sings to her belly all day.

We don’t belong to a dead Catholic or Baptist church where they tell you Christianity is a game where you try to rack up points while God does absolutely nothing for you. We don’t belong to a prosperity gospel church where the pastors spend their days thinking up ways to con people out of their savings and houses. We don’t hang out with church volunteers who snipe at us and revel in abusing their meager authority.

We pray for God to transform us and inhabit us. We ask him to separate us from useless people and spirits. We ask for humility, love, and revelation. We don’t get on our knees, ask God to give us more money than our neighbors, and get up and go about the business of the flesh. God helps us to pray for the important things.

I speak blessings over my wife and child. I speak blessings over my parrot, Marvin. I use the name of Yeshua. We want our family to be different from our parent’s families and our cousins’ families, and it is.

The yard is a mess. We need to fix the landscaping. The house needs a lot of painting. We are less than halfway done with the furnishings. Doesn’t matter at all. It’s nothing. My wife doesn’t lie in bed and pray for God to change me and make me a Christian husband who treats her well. I don’t go off by myself and ask God to make my wife love me and stop using me. We’re not looking around to see if someone better can rescue us. The important things are in place, regardless of whether the hedges need trimming.

God is extremely, extremely good to us. I’m sorry so many people from our past are doing so badly. I wish everyone lived in a house of love. I can’t do anything about it, though. They don’t listen. God is ready when they are, but they prefer shallow lives devoted to bringing themselves the things they think will make them happy.

We don’t have a Christmas tree or matching Christmas pajamas. We don’t put up Facebook photos that are carefully engineered to create a false impression of an idyllic existence exemplifying the American dream and to hide things like domestic abuse, perverted children, debt, adultery, alcoholism, and despair.

Many Americans post photos like that. I don’t understand it. No one is going to try to rescue you from despair if they don’t know you have a problem.

Our house is decorated by love and God’s presence. We don’t need to publish a newsletter about how little Tommy is the tallest boy in the first grade and little Becky is the captain of the pep squad.

Happiness and peace are priceless. The appearance of happiness is worthless without more.

Things are working because I gave up. I was inept at running my own life. I had no idea what I was doing. I corrupted myself and turned myself into a disgrace. When I gave up, everything turned around, and over time, I was brought to this place. I have nothing to be proud of, and I am afraid of pride. God did it all. I don’t want him to stop.

You can have a life of peace and love if you want it, but you have to give up and admit defeat. You have to let God run things. You need to be baptized with the Holy Spirit, pray in tongues, and receive revelation. You have to embrace humility and benefit from its power. Otherwise, you’ll just be putting flashy bandages on infected wounds until you die.

I never lived in a house of love until my wife moved here, when I was already nearly elderly. I loved people, but I was alone with two birds. They were the only creatures I could share love with every day. Living in a house of love is still very new and strange to me.

Thank you, God, for all you’ve done. Please help us not to ruin it.