Back to Bethlehem - Part 4

Although Christmas 2019 is behind us, can we take one last lingering look at the little town of Bethlehem? This tiny village was a place of wonder, a place of worship, and also a place of warning. 

God knew what Herod was up to even though the wise men did not. He warned them not to return to Herod. They didn’t insist on their own plan. They didn’t try to change Herod’s mind. With humility, the mysterious Magi obediently and quietly slipped out of the country another way, never to be heard from again.

God, ever watchful of His Son, also warned Joseph in a dream. "Flee to Egypt! Herod is about to search for the child to destroy him” (Matthew 2:13). Joseph gathered the family together by night and headed south on a journey that would take them over 100 miles to safety. 

Not long after, Bethlehem became a place of weeping. 

Herod must have been very insecure to allow an 800-year-old obscure prophecy and an unknown infant to upset him to the point of murdering babies and toddlers. He was furiously enraged when the wise men foiled his plan - and had all the male children under two years old in the region of Bethlehem killed. Cruel and ruthless killings. Babies ripped out of their mother’s arms by soldiers with swords. Screams of anguish long to be remembered. Do mothers ever get over the death of a child? Especially when murdered in cold blood? Tragic.

But the story doesn’t end here. 

Thirty years went by . . . enough time for a 20-year-old shepherd to turn 50. When Jesus began His public ministry, did some of those same shepherds suspect that this teacher, who spoke with authority, was the grown-up infant they had discovered in a manger in Bethlehem so many years before? Did they witness the healings? Did they hear of the feeding of the 5000 or the Sermon on the Mount? Where they among those who believed?

What God began in a small town in Judea named Bethlehem, He finished on a hill outside of nearby Jerusalem. Three days later, the resurrection of Jesus made Bethlehem a place of winning! For this was the mircle that made it possible for our sins to be forever forgiven and for death to be swallowed up in victory!

From the baby in the manger to a risen Savior, Jesus offers us abundant life now and eternal life forever. “Thanks be unto God for His precious, inexpressible, indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9:15 AMPC).

Back to Bethlehem - Part 3

      Bethlehem . . . a place of wonder and a place of worship. When we worship, we ascribe worth to someone.   

          Matthew tells the story of the wise men, the Magi: magicians, astronomers, astrologers – possibly from Persia whose knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures could be traced back to the time of Daniel (5:11). These men often served in the royal court throughout the near eastern world as advisors. A strange and curious story, would you agree? With intention and determination, they follow a mysterious star all the way to Jerusalem and ask, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east and have come to worship him” (Matthew 2:2). How did they know?

This caused no small stir! King Herod gathered all the Jewish religious leaders together and asked them where the Messiah was to be born. They knew right away. Micah, the prophet who wrote eight centuries before, had made it clear: Bethlehem.

Herod secretly sent the wise men to Bethlehem. And already in his evil mind, a carefully crafted plan began to take shape to eliminate this potential threat to his throne.

As the wise men went on their way, the star went before them and came to rest over the place where the child was. They “rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.” Presumably, they had been seeking and traveling miles and miles for up to two years. What a venture!! The purpose of their journey was about to come to fruition! They came into the house and fell down and worshiped the little boy who they knew was the king of the Jews. Imagine the scene. Men of prominence in a little house in Bethlehem. And then they opened their treasure bags and offered Him gifts. 

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were standard gifts to honor a king. These valuable gifts, full of significance, were given in an act of worship and demonstrated their belief in Jesus' deity.

True Worship goes beyond wonder to great joy as we ascribe worth to the Deity whose wonderful plan for the ages includes you and me. Will we humbly bow down and worship the newborn King this Christmas? Will we yield ourselves and our gifts to Him? 

Perhaps you’ve taught your preschoolers this little poem: 

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I’d bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man, I’d do my part.

What can I give Him? I’ll give Him my heart.

Man looks on the outward appearance, the sparkle, the preparations, the food and gifts and all the rest, but God desires our hearts.

Back to Bethlehem - Part 2

"Will you come back to Bethlehem with me?"  (From Part 1)

Bethlehem (House of Bread) was a small village 5 miles south of Jerusalem, a grain-producing region which began as an early Canaanite settlement on a caravan route. In Genesis 35, we learn that this town was the burial site of Rachel. During the period of the Judges, Bethlehem was the home of Ruth and Boaz, who were the great-grandparents of King David. David’s family lived there, and he was anointed king there. Thus the Scriptures refer to this town as the City of David.

Although there are other locations also attached to the Christmas narrative, it’s in this seemingly insignificant town where we place our focus. 

      Bethlehem was a Place of Wonder – of amazement, awe, admiration, astonishment.

Luke gives an account of the shepherds, whose job it was to care for the sheep, many of which were used in the temple sacrifices in nearby Jerusalem. 

Can you imagine the scene? An ordinary night . . . the sheep had settled down and their keepers were gathered around the campfires. All of a sudden, an angel appears in the night sky with the glory of the Lord all around. No wonder they were terrified (2:9)! But they still managed to hear the message loud and clear: fear not, good news, great joy, for all people, the birth of a Savior, the Messiah, the Lord (spoke of deity). The angel gave them specific directions of how they could find this baby. And then . . .What would it have been like to hear an army of angels praising God in unison? “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” (2:14).

The shepherds hurried to Bethlehem and searched until they found the baby wrapped up tight in the most unlikely of places - a manger. And there were His parents just as the angel had said. What a moment! I imagine their story bubbled out as Mary and Joseph eagerly hung on to every word, perhaps a confirmation to them that God’s plan was, indeed, unfolding just as it was meant to be. 

The shepherds “made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child.” Can you imagine the band of shepherds traipsing through the streets of Bethlehem, as dawn broke, telling everybody they saw in this busy little town: “The Messiah has been born!” Messiah! The very word breathed hope to these Jewish people under Roman rule. How they longed for their Messiah. “And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them” (2:18). They were astounded. They marveled.   

Have we lost the wonder of Bethlehem? The wonder of the miracle baby in the manger? The wonder of the Word being made flesh to dwell among us?

Over the course of Jesus’ life, many people wondered. We’re told that his parents marveled at the temple soon after His birth after hearing what Simeon said about Him: He would be a light to the Gentiles and glory to Israel. Twelve years later, they found the missing Son of God in Jerusalem. Remember Jesus’ words? “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (2:33; 48-49). Of course, they were amazed!  

Throughout Jesus’ ministry, many others were astonished, but not all of them believed. People in his home town (Luke 4:22-30). Many of those he taught (Luke 9:43-45; 11:14f; 20:26). Even His own disciples had weak faith (Luke 8:22-25).

This leads me to think that we can wonder without worship but we can’t truly worship without wonder.

Back to Bethlehem - Part 1

This week, I had the privilege of speaking at the Ladies' Christmas Tea at the Montrose Bible Conference. We had a delightful time . . . music of the season, Scripture reading, a wonderful lunch/tea along with a talk from God's Word. Throughout the next several posts, I'll be sharing some thoughts from this event. So stay tuned!

We began our time together with a story, a story that is meaningful to me because my mom wrote it, and the little girl in the story is my youngest daughter. 

BACK TO BETHLEHEM

By Lillian M. Ewert

Just like a pre-programmed clock, the question came every day. “Is it Christmas yet?” Our granddaughter Elisabeth, age 3, anticipated something she could not remember experiencing. The Christmas tree, the pretty lights, and the wooden manger scene caused her excitement to mount with each passing day.

Christmas finally dawned. The family gathering at our house always included a Christmas play presented by all the grandchildren which I enjoyed directing. The adults provided the appreciative audience. However, changes had occurred over the years. Some of the grandchildren could not be there and the adult audience had dwindled considerably.  Elisabeth’s teenaged sisters no longer looked forward to wearing bathrobes and angel wings. I wrestled with the idea of giving up the Christmas play but struggled to find a fitting substitute to help us focus on the Savior’s birth. As I watched Elisabeth at play, an idea began to stir in my mind.

“Elisabeth, would you like to be Mary and put Baby Jesus in the manger?” I asked.

Elisabeth’s eyes lit up as she took my hand and we went into the bedroom to get ready.  “Grammy, you be Joseph,” she said. I pinned a blanket around Elisabeth’s shoulders and tied a scarf around her head. I placed the Baby Jesus, wrapped in strips of cloth, into her arms and together we stepped into the living room and slowly walked to the manger. Carefully Baby Jesus was placed in the bed of artificial straw. Mary and Joseph each kneeled beside the manger to admire the Baby. The family began to sing familiar Christmas carols previously taught by Elisabeth’s mother. Sometimes the Baby would be picked up and gently rocked and placed back in the manger. Elisabeth’s eyes shone as she lived out the story that had become so familiar to her in recent days. It became obvious that she loved her role as Mary when she kept her costume on the rest of the day.

As the day drew to a close, the adults remained at the table to talk while Elisabeth, who had been excused, played with her toys in the living room. Before long, I felt a tap on my shoulder and a little voice said, “Joseph, will you come back to Bethlehem with me?” Back to Bethlehem. “A little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6).

In the next few weeks, let's take Elisabeth's lead and find our way back to Bethlehem.

Empty Yet Full

Empty . . .

An apt description of the house when the last one leaves after a holiday. Can you relate? No bags stashed here and there. No toys to trip over. No sippy cups in the kitchen sink. No crowded bathroom counters and towel racks. No half-open suitcases. No scattered shoes and boots in the breezeway. No extra cars in the driveway.

And more obvious, no adult children and grandchildren gathered around, playing games, laughing, or eating around the table. All may be calm and bright, but as the emptiness echoes its stillness, I feel the loss.

At the same time, my heart is full . . . full of memories. Talking until 2 a.m. the night my college-age daughter flew in. More hours of talking, talking, talking. Shopping at Kohl's because her internship is right around the corner. Listening to her play the piano and sing. Welcoming the older girls and their families. Catching up. Cuddling a two-month-old and seeing his wide smiles for the first time. Reading stories. Singing carols by a crackling fire. Taking my oldest grandson to see The Nutcracker the day after Christmas. Enjoying a roast beef Christmas dinner, along with my dad and a friend. Playing Jenga. Sharing gifts and stories. Missing those no longer with us.

One family came on Sunday the 23rd and left the very next day due to our three-year-old's bout with vomiting and diarrhea. After a hurried gift opening, we all had tears in our eyes when they pulled away to try to get home, mommy and bucket in the back seat just in case.

Today, I said my last good-bye of the season. Our youngest drove off in her daddy's 2005 Corolla, new wiper blades in place, EZ Pass transponder and GPS attached to the windshield and, just to make me feel better, a few maps tucked in the passenger door pocket. Since 2015, I've babied this car . . . inspections, tires, maintenance . . . because I knew this day was coming, the day when she would drive it back to school in the mid-west. Barry would be proud of her (and all of them) if he were here. 

After a good cry, I got busy. Putting things in order has always been my way of coping. Does it ever get easier? 

As I mopped the bathroom floor and folded towels, I thought about what happened after Mary's encounter with Gabriel. Luke 1:39 tells us, "In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah" to visit Zachariah and Elizabeth. Although the Bible doesn't mention Mary's mother, I couldn't help but wonder how she felt when Mary said a hasty good-bye to take a 70-mile trip. Did concern for her daughter's well-being and safety occupy her thoughts? Did she wake up to pray in the dark of the night? 

Somehow this ancient un-named mother gave me courage as I said my own good-byes today. She invested years sharing biblical truth and practical knowledge, then moved out of the way to allow her daughter to follow God's leading. In the same way, I want to be supportive of all three of my daughters. I hope we've given them roots. Now it's time to give them wings (and wheels!). 

Empty? Yes, but with a heart full of thanksgiving and anticipation in a brand new year. 

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The Christmas Countdown . . .

I eyed my calendar, making a mental note of all I had to do before the 25th. Decorate the house, purchase gifts and wrap them, plan menus, attend holiday events, write our annual Christmas letter and mail out cards, pick up last minute gifts and grocery items . . . all before they come trooping through the door and the quiet turns a bit chaotic with three little grandsons, their parents, and a favorite aunt. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

Timing is important this season of the year, like planning a celebratory meal so every dish finishes cooking at the same time. We feel the strain of getting it all done just right, on time, making it special and memorable. Does anyone else feel the pressure?

Over the last few years, our family has talked a lot about simplicity. How can we keep the traditions alive that are important to us without doing everything we've always done . . . without "doing it all"?

The answer to this question varies, but we've learned to be okay with a little less baking and decorating and fewer gifts. And our time together is just as meaningful. We treasure every bit of stimulating conversation and laughter around the table that feeds a feeling of belonging.

On the other hand, no holiday is perfect. The kids cry. A new toy breaks. A part is missing, and we can't find the receipt. The roast doesn't get done in time. The empty chairs, seen and unseen, remind us of those who are no longer with us. We feel the loss . . . more so than on regular days. 

So then, there's the matter of trying to adjust our expectations . . .

 . . . and focusing on the first Christmas where a government tax bill shuffled people around the land of Israel, making it necessary for a young virgin to give birth to her firstborn son in a stable miles from home. Not ideal by any standard, yet somehow in God's perfect time according to His perfect plan.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons (Galatians 4:4-5).

This Christmas, I want to be purposeful and embrace those traditions that are meaningful, don't you? And to see the wrinkled newborn in the manger with fresh eyes, to hear the brilliant announcement and glorious song of the angels with the shepherds, to follow the mysterious star with the wise men, and to embrace the wonder of it all with Mary and Joseph. 

No matter how our holiday week plays out, a simple story from long ago makes all the difference. And in this wonderful story, the baby's name is Immanuel. 

God with us. 

Your thoughts?

Striking a Balance

Is it just me, or is January 2018 zipping by at breakneck speed?

Seems I'm just getting around to reflecting on the new year's possibilities along with a few goals and hopeful intentions. In the process I reached for one of Barry's books I finished in 2017 and found the page with the corner turned down. Sometimes when you don't have time to think about something in the moment, it's nice to go back and find it again - this time to digest it slowly, like savoring a candy bar you saved for later. 

Here's what I've been thinking about (along with making time for rest, exercise, and connecting with people):

Reading is a sober discipline, and all discipline is difficult. It requires work, diligence, concentration, practice, and maturity.

But that is the way it is with anything worthwhile. The best things in life invariably cost something. People have to sacrifice to attain them, to achieve them, to keep them, and to enjoy them. 

That is one of the most important lessons anyone can learn in life. It is the message that most parents realize that they ought to instill in their children: Patience, commitment, diligence, constancy, and discipline will ultimately pay off if their children are just willing to defer gratification long enough for the seeds they have sown to sprout and bear fruit.

A flippant, shallow, and imprecise approach to anything . . . is ultimately self-defeating.* 

Maybe sometimes in the heat of the day, we forget that "anything noble takes effort." 

I read another book, this one requested for Christmas by one of my daughters. I have a habit of reading the books I gift, both before and after they're opened! This one started out with an allegory about a student who wanted to take piano lessons. He practiced and practiced. When he plunked out his little tune during his lesson, the teacher came alongside him and began to play. Melodious music filled the room. When they finished the teacher smiled and said, "We make pretty good music together."

The boy looked up at him. "You don't mean we, do you?

"Yes. We made the music together. You did what you could, and I did the rest."**

The story includes many wonderful scenes and lessons, but this line struck a cord with me. We often are like the child . . . practicing commitment and diligence, working hard . . . as we should. Yet our efforts often seem like the awkward tune the boy struggled to play. And that's when the Master Teacher comes alongside us and whispers, "You do what you can, and I will do the rest."

Striking a balance? There will always be a tension between the hard work of taking our responsibilities seriously and watching/hearing God make our labored efforts sing. In the next post or two, I'll be sharing some examples of this very thing.

 

*Going Somewhere: A Dan and Bea Adventure by George Grant (Nashville: Cumberland House, 1999). 254.

**When Being Good Isn't Good Enough by Steve Brown (Brenham: Lucid Books, 2014), 24.

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When the Passing of Time Brings Change

The emotion I felt surprised me.

Another first since my husband passed away. . . which should have been the first clue this would trigger some feelings of nostalgia mixed with loss.

The last two years, our youngest daughter and I "decked the halls" of our home, but this year she and the others plan to arrive for an early Christmas on the same day. Our time is short so I planned to have everything ready - and honestly looked forward to decorating the house. Umpteen trips up to the attic and back saw me pull out the old familiar simple, homespun Christmas garlands, stockings, and lighted village. And, of course, the wooden manger my dad made when the kids were little . . . and all the holiday stories. 

I cranked up the Christmas music on Pandora and went to work . . . but instead of seeing my hands sort lights and greenery, I saw little-girl hands hanging their stockings on designated hooks by the fireplace. Added to the carols, I heard their voices and laughter. I watched their daddy in the recliner, taking it all in, giving his two cents now and then, snacking on popcorn, and feeding the fire. I smelled pizza in the oven and freshly baked cookies as the celebratory ending to our annual tradition. 

Tears ran down my cheeks. Those busy, hectic days slipped away so quickly . . . only memories now. 

Even as I reached for the tissue box, I thought of our girls and how proud I am of each one. Two of them are now mothers, creating their own family traditions. I thanked God for the privilege of being their mom all these years.

And I rehearsed the blessings God has offered me today . . . family, friends, community, health, the ability to do my work and help others. . .  and even events to look forward to over this holiday season . . . blessings I want to receive with gratefulness and contentment.  

Even though time changes so much of life, Christmas is still about Emmanuel, God with us. It's still about a loving God who sent His only Son to be our Savior. It's still about joy and peace . . . and everlasting hope. 

When the family all comes trouping through the back door in a couple of weeks, the house will be festive, the tree bright, the frig stocked with their favorites, and the gifts wrapped. The little grandboys will dress up as shepherds, and we'll read the familiar story from Luke 2 together. We'll ponder the miracle of Christmas.

I plan to savor every minute!

Stories for Christmas

There's something about Christmas that makes me want to enjoy a warm, wonderful story. Down through the years I have collected a file folder full of Christmas stories from magazines and newsletters along with a stack of holiday books. Every day during the month of December I would read to our daughters by tree light. Every year we looked forward to the stories, stories that became more and more dear.

My parents began our story-telling tradition. Early on, they read the same stories to my sister and me--and then to our children. A timeless tradition for multiple generations.

Here's a list of a few of the stories we've come to enjoy. A click on the book titles will take you to Amazon.com. I hope you'll add your own favorites in the comments below. 

Our Grandson as a Shepherd, 2016

The Christmas Story written by New Testament authors Matthew and Luke

SHORT STORIES:
"Charlie's Blanket" by Wendy Miller (from a book compiled by Dr. Joe Wheeler: Christmas in My Heart: A Timeless Treasury of Heartwarming Stories)
"The Good Things in Life" by Arthur Gordon (from a book compiled by Dr. Joe Wheeler: The Best of Christmas in My Heart, Vol. 2)
"Out of the Ivory Palaces" by Dr. James A. Hunter
"Why the Chimes Rang" by Raymond MacDonald Alden
The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry
"The Shoemaker's Christmas" by Corrie ten Boom (from her book Christmas Memories)

PICTURE BOOKS:

The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski
Punchinello and the Most Marvelous Gift by Max Lucado
The Candle in the Window by Grace Johnson
The Littlest Angel by Charles Tazewell (This title is linked to my childhood edition.)
How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss
The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

NOVELS AND NOVELLAS:
A Miser, A Manger, A Miracle by Marianne Jordan  
Christmas Past by Robert Vaughan
The Yuletide Angel by Sandra Ardoin
The Christmas Note by Donna VanLiere
The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans
A Father's Prayer by Linda Rondeau
The Easterly House by Beth Livingston

What Christmas stories can you add to the list?

Oh, and if you're looking for a gift idea for that special middle-schooler, check out Cindy Noonan's book. She gives history a heartbeat in Dark Enough to See the Stars, a story of escape on the Underground Railroad.

I met Cheryl Elton at a writers' conference several years ago, and we've kept in touch ever since. She's crafted a thought-provoking book titled Pathway of Peace: Living in a Growing Relationship with Christ.

And my inspirational memoir, Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story, may be just the right gift for a friend or family member who could use a bit of encouragement. (And it's been free or $1.99 on Kindle, so grab a copy for yourself, too!)


This Christmas we have the opportunity to give gifts that offer a lasting impact . . . 

Unused Gifts

"Mom, why haven't you used the cutting board I gave you for Christmas?"

Elisabeth, home from college for summer break, pulled out the locally crafted cutting board from the bottom cupboard. It looked as new as the day she gifted it to me. I had been delighted when she shared how she managed to surprise me without my having an inkling of what she'd been up to. A mutual friend had made it. A work of art. A wonderful gift. A treasure.
I felt a little guilty now as I eyed the unused gift on the counter. My daughter didn't give it to me to collect dust. She wanted me to benefit from it, to enjoy it. Why hadn't I used it? I saw it every day when I pulled out the old cutting board. And I liked it - a lot. Perhaps it was because I didn't want to mar the surface, to mess it up.

Later that day Elisabeth and I chatted about God's gifts. Like her, God gives us gifts to USE, not to neglect in a dark corner of our lives. He gifts us with time, material resources, abilities, and spiritual gifts. We looked up several verses that highlighted the fact that God wants us to USE His gifts:

1 Peter 4:10: "Each of you should USE whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms . . . so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ."

Romans 12:6: "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us USE them . . ." 

So why then, do we hesitate to use the gifts of God? Perhaps for the same reason I didn't use my cutting board: We don't want to mess things up. We fear we won't use them well enough. We fail to acknowledge the significance of what it will mean to the Giver and how His power complements our human offerings.

Like Elisabeth, God is disappointed and grieved when we neglect the gifts He's chosen to give us . . . gifts paired perfectly with the "good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do" (Ephesians 2:10).

We've been using my cutting board a lot this week. It already shows signs of wear . . . and yet my daughter is glad to finally see me use it. The grooves and stains represent the shared experiences of cooking, hospitality, and laughter along with savoring our few weeks together before she heads off for a summer internship.



This time, when she's away, I'll use her gift. And it'll remind me of the importance of using God's gifts to serve others . . . for His glory.

What about you? Together, let's dust off those neglected gifts and USE them!

                                                                                                                                              

The Week Between . . .

"Mom, you don't have to go through all this trouble," one of my daughters remarked as I set the table using my good dishes and goblets. 

I flashed her a smile as I placed the silverware and napkins just so. "I eat by myself every night. Do you know what it means to me to have you all here? To be able to set a proper table? To enjoy the hubbub? 

This week, I've been savoring the memories of them all being here . . . the rompings of two little boys, the hush as we sat together at the Christmas Eve service, the birthday cake for Jesus, the traditional reading of the Christmas story, the adult gift exchange, the excitement of the children, the singing of carols as the fireplace blazed, the never-ending chit chat . . . 

The week between Christmas and New Year's also offers a unique opportunity to look back and remember events of the past year. Many changes have taken place in our family in 2016. The first year anniversary of Barry's passing, Elisabeth's graduation from high school and enrollment in college, the release of Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story, the quietness of living alone for the first time . . .

The week between Christmas and the new year naturally turns our attention to the future. What will 2017 bring? Only God knows. One of my most precious memories of last weekend was when we went around the table and each one shared their hopes and plans for the new year: an online class, a road trip to the mid-west, a possible summer internship, a new place to live, a quilt to complete, a desire to maintain the status quo, an effective marketing plan, a determination to down-size . . . all areas we can be praying for each other about . . .

A wise king once wrote, "In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps. . . . Many are the plans in a  man's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails" (Proverbs 16:9; 19:21). There's a bit of comfort in these words. 

In this week between Christmas and New Year's, take the opportunity to meditate on God's goodness in our past and the promise of His presence in our future. 

Immanuel . . . God with us!

 

The Ultimate Transaction

Sleigh bells jingled in the background, and lights twinkled as I waited at the end of a long line of strangers to exchange my cash for my daughter’s Christmas gift. In a limited sense, I became poorer so she could become richer. When we give a gift, we sacrifice money—and ultimately time. Yet my transaction didn’t make me truly “poor” or make her truly “rich.”

But what if our family left our suburban home with only the clothes on our backs? What if we left our cars in the garage, our furniture, our technology, our clothes, our freezer full of food, our education, our jobs, our children’s school, and all that we have and do. And what if a refugee family from a third-world country moved in and suddenly acquired all we left behind . . . while we took up their life of hand-to-mouth poverty? We, who had been rich, for their sakes would become poor that they might gain our riches.

What if a billionaire traded places with the poorest of peasants? 

What if the Son of God became poor for earthlings like us?

Jesus willingly embraced the ultimate poverty. He left His Father and all that encompasses the celestial sphere to become a helpless infant. He took on human limitations. The hands that formed the heavens with the moon and the stars, wrapped themselves around a teenage girl’s finger as she lovingly swaddled Him in homespun strips of cloth. He became utterly dependent on the people He created—for milk, for shelter, for protection. Although He was the Word from the beginning, He had to learn to talk. Taking on humanity demonstrated no small sacrifice. He traded all of heaven’s glory for our sakes so that we could acquire all He left behind.

We celebrate Christmas because a Savior came to provide eternal life. We sing carols about joy, celebrate with candlelight services, and re-enact the Nativity. We rejoice in the benefits of His grace.

But Jesus experienced unfathomable loss. Loss for a sinful people who often take the incarnation for granted. And if becoming a baby wasn’t humbling enough, He gave up His life as the ultimate sacrifice. For our sakes—all because He loves us.

This Christmas, l hope we will remember God’s unspeakable gift. It’s through His poverty we become truly rich.

Joy to the world!

 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich (2 Corinthians 8:9, NKJV).

Photos from bing.com