Happy Halloween, Reformation Day, All-Saints Day, etc.! Goblins, vampires, witches, ghosts, skeletons, and graves mark the night of every child’s Halloween, right? Not for some. When I was growing up, our church banished Halloween and replaced it with Reformation Day. Instead of celebrating those demonic, devilish creatures, we dressed like monks, pilgrims, pumpkins, and characters from our favorite Bible stories. We played games and cake walked our way through the different rooms in the church, and we heard about Martin Luther and how he began a reformation which paved the way for Protestants to worship and believe differently than the Roman Catholic Church. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel gypped: I still got my candy. And I actually love that because my parents had no money I was Jonah IN the whale and a classic version of an Indian (thank God for Mom’s mad sewing skills). My parents and their friends followed their convictions, and I think that’s great. But I do feel that sometimes it’s nice to reconsider our convictions. Check out the following articles from Ransom Fellowship. They consider both the origins of Halloween and the church’s place in history: Halloween: Magic and Monsters: Discernment Exercise http://www.ransomfellowship.org/articledetail.asp?AID=492&B=Michael%20Metzger&TID=8
and Halloween: A Distinctly Christian Holiday http://www.ransomfellowship.org/articledetail.asp?AID=370&B=James%20Jordan&TID=7
Whitney Hale serves as a reader for Ruminate from 2007-20010. She received her BA in English from Liberty University and is currently working for the fundraising arm of St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. She writes in her free time for a few organizations and is a strong believer in the reconciliation of people from all places, races, and backgrounds. She is still madly in love with her high school sweetheart whom she married at the ripe old age of 19 and they have two toddler boys who are 19 months apart.
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I love that idea, that we are pilgrims on a journey through time. I love that we humans try so hard to find our places on that long road. And I love that you and I are ineffable, numinous pieces of some great mystery we will never fully understand.
I wake with a kind of jolt in my stomach: I know where I am, but I do not know when I am. When in time am I? Are my children both sleeping in the other room? Will I hear their small feet pattering on the floor as they come in to wake me? Will they tumble into bed with Eric and me?
As a witness of thought, it struck me deeply that I must be something much more than what had been running through my mind. I was so identified with thinking that I truly mistook thought for who I was.