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Whenever a farmer in western Kansas buys a new truck or combine or something, they are hesitant to bring it out or tell anyone about it. I’m not quite sure why that is - but I think a part of it is they don’t want the other farmers to get jealous over what they’ve got and they don’t want to come off as arrogant. So they keep it to themselves as long as possible, or just don’t buy new trucks so as not to come off as being better than their neighbors. It seems rather ridiculous to a point - almost like a false modesty. If God has blessed you with the ability to get a new truck and you are still generous with your offerings and giving, why can’t you let people see your gift from God? Why can’t you use it? As long as you aren’t arrogant and flashy about it, why not enjoy it? Let them look at it and do the “oohs and aahs.”
Mary realized that there is no way she could keep this gift hidden in a garage - that it wasn’t just a gift for her - but for the world. She had to admit the bare truth of the matter - she had been given a wonderful gift. She said, From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me— holy is his name. Soon after she gave birth, she would realize what a PUBLIC thing this was. Shepherds first came and then told all kinds of people about it. So they came and saw the baby. Then Wise Men came some months later. Here she had all these strangers coming in their house and visiting the manger on the same night as the birth, but she didn’t say, “come back tomorrow - I just gave birth for crying out loud.” She knew that all generations would know about this birth, but she didn’t want to be arrogant and flashy about it. She wanted to make sure that they kept the praise where it belonged - to the Mighty One - for doing great things for her. She didn’t want any of the credit.
‘A group of first graders decided that they were going to produce their very own Christmas program and so they produced their own updated nativity story.
All the major characters were there – Joseph, the shepherds, the wise men from afar… but where was Mary?
Shortly after the production began, there was heard from behind some bales of straw moaning and groaning – Mary was in labor!
A doctor with a white coat and a black bag was then ushered onto the stage and disappeared with Joseph behind the bales of straw. After a few moments, the doctor emerged from behind the bales of straw with a jubilant smile on his face and holding a baby in his arms.
He then announced to the audience, ‘It’s a GOD!’
Top 10 Reasons why there was no room for Joseph and Mary in the Inn.
10. The Roman Government’s “Buy one night, get a second free” promotion was a bit too successful.
9. The only room left was by the ice machine.
8. The Nazareth Shriners tore up the place the night before.
7. The innkeeper didn’t accept the Judean Express Card.
6. It was the weekend of the Caesar Impersonators convention.
5. The last pregnant lady riding a donkey took all their towels.
4. The health department had shut them down because of an E. coli outbreak.
3. The innkeeper’s wife wouldn’t let him take olive wood carvings as payment anymore.
2. The front desk was closed early so the innkeeper and his family could go outside and watch the unique star.
1. No last names; no service.
History records for us an interesting footnote. It was during the dark winter of 1864. At Petersburg, Virginia, the Confederate army of Robert E. Lee faced the Union divisions of General Ulysses S. Grant. The war was now three and a half years old and the glorious charge had long since given way to the muck and mud of trench warfare. Late one evening one of Lee’s generals, Major General George Pickett, received word that his wife had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Up and down the line the Southerners began building huge bonfires in celebration of the event. These fires did not go unnoticed in the Northern camps and soon a nervous Grant sent out a reconnaissance patrol to see what was going on. The scouts returned with the message that Pickett had had a son and these were celebratory fires. It so happened that Grant and Pickett had been contemporaries at West Point and knew one another well, so to honor the occasion Grant, too, ordered that bonfires should be built.
What a peculiar night it was. For miles on both sides of the lines fires burned. No shots fired. No yelling back and forth. No war fought. Only light, celebrating the birth of a child. But it didn’t last forever. Soon the fires burned down and once again the darkness took over. The darkness of the night and the darkness of war.
The good news of Chris...
Peter Loughman
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HOW TO GET KICKED OUT OF CHURCH ON CHRISTMAS EVE
Christmas Eve 1990. I came this close to being physically thrown out of church.
We were new to town and we heard that a certain church in town had a fantastic Christmas Eve service. So, we went with some friends, about ten of us total, to this church in downtown Princeton, New Jersey. The church was packed and we were looking forward to a wonderful night.
Our first clue that something was a little off was when the usher gave us the night’s bulletin and warned us that there would be absolutely no talking before, during or after the service.
Huh, we thought.
We were chided several times by an usher to quit whispering, and this was before the service started.
Just before the service started, an associate pastor came out and requested that those in the congregation please refrain from singing, for the paid professional choir found it difficult to perform with unprofessional singing.
I am not making this up.
Well, the service started with the hymn "O Come All Ye Faithful". Who can resist singing "O Come All Ye Faithful"? The now familiar usher appeared and hushed our unprofessional row right up. He was quite menacing.
The second hymn was "Hark The Herald Angels Sing". I have to admit, the choir was quite good, but unlike the rest of the congregation our row couldn’t resist singing and we jumped in on the second verse. Immediately our usher was upon us, this time giving us our final warning. "One more time, and you are out", he quietly scolded us.
It was miserable. This usher would stroll by our pew every few minutes and give us a piercing glare. Christmas hymn, after Christmas hymn, and we couldn’t sing a word. We were like prisoners in our pew. Did we really sing that poorly? Finally, the service was ending, our candles were lit and the hymn "Silent Night" was just beginning. Well, I ask you, who can resist singing "Silent Night" on Christmas Eve? It is irresistible.
Soon a heavy hand fell upon my shoulder, "You have to leave, son, you're singing again." It was our ever vigilant usher. I didn't move. Again, I heard, "You have to leave, son, you're singing again." At this point we were on the last verse of "Silent Night" and in unified Christmas Eve defiance, our whole row started to sing. We sang the hymn with ever increasing gusto. Would the usher make a scene? Would we be physically dragged out of church for our clearly unprofessional singing? Would we be banned from Christmas Eve Service forever?
Perhaps it dawned on the usher that this was Christmas Eve. Perhaps the usher's bark was worse than his bite, or perhaps the joy of Christmas came upon the usher that at that very moment, I'll never know – but our usher relented and returned to his post.
We finished the hymn, extinguished our candles, and headed for the door, where we were met by the usher who had pestered us all evening, he shook our hands and exclaimed, "Merry Christmas, please join us for Sunday Service this next week."
We went to the church across the street the next Sunday.
"Always be in a state of expectancy, and see that you leave room for God to come in as He likes."
Praise Him for the incarnation,
for the word made flesh.
I will not sing of shepherds
watching flocks on frosty nights,
or angel choristers.
I will not sing of a stable bare in Bethlehem,
or lowing oxen,
wise men trailing star with gold,
frankincense, and myrrh.
Tonight I will sing praise to the Father
who stood on heaven’s threshold
and said farewell to his Son
as he stepped across the stars
to Bethlehem and Jerusalem.
And I will sing praise to the infinite, eternal Son,
who became most finite, a baby
who would one day be executed for my crime.
Praise him in the heavens,
Praise him in the stable,
Praise him in my heart.
Joseph Bayly.
Three small boys were in a Christmas play at school.
They represented the three wise men and they were to give their gifts to baby Jesus. The first boy stepped forward, held out the gift in his hands and said, “Gold.” The second boy stepped forward, held out his gift and sai...
The Christ-child lay on Mary’s lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary’s breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary’s heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world’s desire.)
The Christ-child stood at Mary’s knee,
His hair was like a crown.
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.
G. K. Chesterton in The Wild Knight.
PEALE: A SIMPLE CHRISTMAS IN AFRICA
Norman Vincent Peale writes of spending Christmas in Africa with his wife, children and grandchildren. He was hesitant but his wife told him he would love every minute of it. And yet, as Christmas day approached he was troubled because everything Christmas was missing: being home, having a Christmas tree, people singing carols in the streets, hanging Christmas lights, snow crunching under his feet and of course all of the smells and aromas of Christmas.
But there was none of that there in Africa. We had been told there would be a special dinner out for us on Christmas Eve. Even this did not cheer me; I thought it might be an artificial occasion with everyone trying too hard to be merry. When I came out near dinnertime I saw that in the eating tent a straggly brown bush had been set up, decorated with small colored lights and some tinsel and red ribbon.
We were called to the edge of the river, where chairs had been set up for all of us so that we could see, on the other side, two herders guarding their cattle, their spear tips gleaming in the gathering dusk. And at that peaceful, almost timeless sight, I felt something stir within me, for I knew that these herders and their charges came from a long line that had not changed in thousands of years. They belonged to their landscape just as the shepherds on the hills outside Bethlehem belonged to theirs.
And at that moment one of our grandchildren began to sing, hesitantly, tentatively, "O Little Town of Bethlehem." Gradually others joined in: "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," and then "Joy to the World!" Soon we were all singing, and as we sang, everything seemed to change; the sense of strangeness was gone. I looked around the group, our children, their children, singing songs, sharing feelings that in a very real way went back almost 2,000 years to that simple manger in a simple town, with the herders standing by in a parched and primitive land. Then someone began to read from Luke: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night..."
As the story went on I thought, How wonderful and simple this is, so wonderful and simple that only God could have thought of it. So when the carols and the Bible reading ended and we walked back to the eating tent for our dinner, I knew a complete sense of peace. It was in that simple setting that Norman Vincent Peale and his family welcomed the child.
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