Rudolph (the red nosed reindeer), Hermes (the elf who wanted to be a dentist), and Yukon Cornelius (the crazy man with a pick-axe) were nearly eaten by a gigantic, grouchy, shag-carpeted snowman whose teeth looked like vampire fangs from a leftover Halloween costume. In the instant before their grisly deaths, however, Yukon used his ever present pick-axe to break off a small iceberg whereupon the vagabonds floated to safety.
Though Yukon saved the day their troubles were far from over. Before they knew it gloomy darkness fell around them as if someone had pulled a thick curtain across the sun. While a pick-axe may be handy for chopping ice, it’s virtually useless for dispelling the dark. And even though they counted a brightly shining nose among them the weary band of travelers still had difficulty knowing just where in the world they were. Or where they were going. Or where fate would ultimately choose to end their quest. On that cold, bitter night it was probably for the best they didn’t know the place they sought isn’t found on any map.
Anyway, as luck would have it, they didn’t have to wonder or wander too terribly long because their tiny iceberg soon ran aground.
Rudolph and friends were on an island. Safe. A welcomed relief after a scary night spent on open seas- unless you are not welcomed- as was the case for our hapless pilgrims. You see, they were soon confronted by an alert sentry who didn’t sound at all happy to have intruders intruding during his patrol. He didn’t let the fact his head swung wildly from a neck made of springs- which themselves sprang from a box- deter him from demanding to know why Rudolph, Hermes and Yukon were trespassing on his island.
The wanderers were looking for a place to belong. As is.
Clearly this explanation put the sentry at ease for he was about to introduce himself when Rudolph suddenly interrupted. Surely and obviously, Rudolph opined, the sentry’s name just had to be Jack-in-the-Box. Nice try Rudolph. Only that wasn’t the sentry’s name. Poor Rudolph! After all, the sentry did appear to be Jack-in-the-Box. But he wasn’t. So while Rudolph pulled the hoof out of his mouth the sentry revealed his name to the stunned trio.
His name was Charlie-in-the Box. Oh! how he wished his name was Jack-in-the-box. Even though the wanderers tried to cheer him up the Jack-in-the box named Charlie burst into a fit of inconsolable grief. He was completely ashamed of his name. Although the particulars of their issues differed the reindeer with the red nose, the elf with dreams of being a dentist and a prospector with nothing to show after years of prospecting felt a growing sympathy for the blubbering misfit toy. Which was a good thing because before long they were introduced to myriads of opportunities to practice kindness and acceptance. They soon met a train with square wheels- a water gun that shot jelly- a cowboy who rode an ostrich- a bird who couldn’t fly, but could swim- an elephant with polka dots and- and many more. All misfits.
Unwanted. Unloved. Undone.
The Island of Misfit Toys is where fate had delivered the trio. However, it wasn’t by chance the misfit toys lived there. They had been carried to the island by a noble king. He was a lordly lion who traveled over the entire earth looking for unwanted, unloved and undone toys. The woebegone toys of the world were his delight. And he delighted in rescuing them. He sought them before they knew he existed to be sought. He lived to redeem misfits.
The good king also had a plan for his despondent friends. He desired to place each one of them in the arms of loving children. Which is the very purpose of a toy. In the meantime the king wanted to give them a place of their own, the Island of Misfits. This was a place where they could be loved “as is.” There the toys were free to be what they were. And yet, because they were created to be something else, they still longed to be what they should have been from the beginning. On the Island of Misfits the toys found acceptance in the brokeness of their fellow toys. They found grace for their own condition by daily practicing compassion for the condition of their friends.
So how did they pass the time on the Island of Misfits? They dreamed. Of being whole. Of being normal. Of being loved. They even sang hymns about it. Mostly they talked about the king. They loved to remind one another what he had done for them. When they had the opportunity they told others about the king, such as Rudolph and his friends. They loved that lion for sure. He was the King of the Misfits. Their King.
I am a misfit. That’s okay. I have the best friend ever because I am a misfit. He searched over the entire earth looking for me. When I allowed myself to be found He rushed to my side on the wings of the wind. Then He rescued me. I was unwanted - BUT He wanted me. I was unloved - BUT He loved me. I was undone - BUT He re-did me.
This King has promised misfits everywhere that He will deliver them into the arms of His Father one day. Which is the very place they were meant to be. For reasons known only to the Father that time is not now. Meanwhile, they didn’t want us to be alone. So our King brought us to His Island of Misfits. You can’t find it on a map. It’s not a specific place. But it is everywhere.
One of the happiest days of my life was to discover that I was not the only misfit. I am not the only one undone by misfitism. So are you. I am not the only one who yearns to be whole. So do you. I am not the only one in love with the King. So are you.
I find acceptance among my fellow misfits. When you grant me grace for my misfitism I can’t wait to return the favor. When you embrace me “as is” I feel comfortably uncomfortable. Comfortable that you love me - uncomfortable with my peculiar misfitism. And somehow it works.
So, how do we pass the time on our Island of Misfits? We dream together. Of being whole. Of being normal. Of being loved. We even sing hymns about it. Mostly we talk about the King. We love to remind one another about what He has done for us. When we have the opportunity we enjoy telling others about Him too. We love that Lion for sure. He is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. The True King of Misfits. Our King.
Come unto me all you misfits who are weary and tired and I will give you rest.
A bruised misfit He will not break, a smoldering misfit He will not snuff.
I love you Jesus!
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