HAS CHRIST’S COMING CHANGED ME?

Luke 6:13-16, Ac 4:13

Precious Father, Lord Jesus, Holy Spirit,

The Christmas season has faded from the calendar. The stores have marked all of their holiday items down to 50% and even 70% off the "before" Christmas retail price. The radio station in town that has played Christmas music for two months returned to its secular format on December 26. We are taking down the tree and putting the decorations in storage for another year.

Christmas Day has come and gone. I have thought much of Your coming to earth as God made flesh to live among us. But as I consider the first coming of the Lord, I must ask myself, "So what?" How am I different? How has Your coming changed me?

In order to answer that question I must ask it about others. "What change did Jesus make in the lives of the people who knew Him best?" You certainly turned things upside down for Mary and Joseph! The people of Bethlehem were never the same again. Their adoration and loyalty to You cost many families the lives of their infant sons. Perhaps some of the very shepherds who had adored You upon Your birth, now had empty cradles and shattered lives.  Anna and Simeon could die in peace because they had seen the Lord. The Wise Men were convinced they had met the Son of God, the King of the Jews. Each who encountered You in the Christmas narrative was forever changed.

What about those who knew You best in life and ministry? How did Your coming change them? Church tradition recites many of their deaths. James was the first martyr, thrown off the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem. Matthew was martyred in Ethiopia. Mark was dragged through the streets of Alexandria, Egypt until dead. Hanging on a Grecian hillside was Doctor Luke’s end. Peter was crucified upside down in Rome. Bartholomew, Andrew, Thomas, Jude, Matthais, Barnabas, and Paul–all died martyr’s deaths. Only John lived out his full years, dying in his nineties. But it was not for a lack of trying. John’s would be assassin had attempted to fry the preacher alive in a caldron of boiling oil, but John had escaped.

Why were they willing, even eager to die for You? Because Your coming had changed them. They had met Messiah and were compelled to follow You to their own cross of sacrifice. Tertullian said it well, "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church."

So, I come back to my question. I have traded an old calendar for a new. Christmas is a fading memory, and the question is still nagging at my mind. "How has Christ’s coming changed me?"

So, I follow. I follow You. I serve You. I obey You. I refuse to return to status quo.

In the Name of the God who never leaves me the same,

Amen.

A GIFT FOR A KING

“In the early days eastern tradition said that there were twelve of them. But now the tradition that there were three of them is almost universal. The New Testament does not say that there were three, but the idea that there were three of them no doubt arose from the threefold gift which they brought. Later legend made them kings. And still later legend gave them names, Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar. Still later legend assigned to each a personal description, and distinguished the gift which each of them gave to Jesus. Melchior was an old man, grey haired, and with a long beard, and it was he who brought the gift of gold. Caspar was young and beardless, and ruddy in countenance, and it was he who brought the gift of frankincense. Balthasar was swarthy, with the beard newly grown upon him, and it was he who brought the gift of myrrh.” William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew, vol. 1, p. 22.

Matthew 2:9-12 9 When they heard the king, they departed; and behold, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came and stood over where the young Child was. 10 When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceedingly great joy. 11 And when they had come into the house, they saw the young Child with Mary His mother, and fell down and worshiped Him. And when they had opened their treasures, they presented gifts to Him: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
12 Then, being divinely warned in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed for their own country another way.

My Loving Lord,
I want to give You a suitable gift this Christmas.  The practice of giving gifts to the Christ child began at the manger with the gift of worship.  Shepherds bowed in humble adoration before the infant King.  Perhaps they gave modest gifts of their pastoral lives to Your mother, Your father, and to You: sheep, blankets, clothing, milk, or cheese.

Then came the Magi from the East.  They came bearing elegant gifts for the Christ child: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  These Magi were seekers.  They were seeking truth.  They were seeking You. They were seeking Your revelation.  Apparently, the Magi were a tribal group of Medes within the kingdom of Persia.  They served as advisors, priests, and counselors to the king, studying science, medicine, natural science, astrology, and religion.

Seeing His star rising, the Magi sought the infant king who was born.  Expectation propelled them forward.  The trek from Babylon to Bethlehem ranged anywhere from 500 to 900 miles.  All the while, the Magi followed the star they had seen rising–perhaps Halley’s comet (11 B.C.), a conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter (7 B.C.), or some other astronomical display.

Finding you in the house in Bethlehem, they presented their three-fold gift.  Gold is the premier metal fit for a king.  You are King of kings and Lord of lords!  Frankincense is a gift for a priest to use in temple incense and worship.  You are the priest who bridges the vast gap between God and man.  As incense ascends above, Your intercession ascends to the Father for all of humanity.  You make it possible for me to come to the Father.  Thank You.  Myrrh is a gift to anoint a dead body for burial. The gift of myrrh reminds me that You were born to die.  A cross shadowed Your life from birth. You came to give Your life as an atoning sacrifice, the Lamb of God, for the sins of the whole world.

The common gifts of the shepherds call me to give the ordinary, day to day, part of my life to You. The Magi’s gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh call me to surrender, worship, and sacrifice.  Lord Jesus, make my heart Your royal throne from which You rule my life with love.  I  surrender to Your Kingship--Your Lordship.  I worship You with praise and thanksgiving.  Make my life a pleasing and perpetual aroma of sacrifice to You.  From Your cradle, You call me to a cross.  You call me to lose myself in You, take up my cross, and follow You.  The looming specter of the cross overshadowed Your life, and overshadows mine.  I choose to identify with You in dying to my sin and myself, so that I may be enveloped in Your love and purpose for my life.  Thank You for the privilege of giving You a gift this Christmas season.  Thank You for accepting my simple gift of myself as inspired by gold, frankincense and myrrh.

In the Name of my loving Lord,
Amen.

Dismas: the Penitent Thief

William Barclay tells an ancient legend of Dismas, the thief on the cross whom Jesus forgave and promised "Today you will be with me in Paradise."

"Legend calls the penitent thief Dismas, and tells that he did not meet Jesus for the first time when they both hung on their crosses on Calvary.  The story runs like this.  When Joseph and Mary were on their way to Egypt, they were waylaid by robbers.  one of the robber chiefs wished to murder them at once and to steal their little store of goods.

"But something about the baby Jesus went straight to Dismas' heart, for Dismas was one of these robbers.  He refused to allow any harm to come to Jesus or His parents.

"He looked at Jesus and said, 'O most blessed of children, if ever there come a time for having mercy on me, then remember me, and forget not this hour.'

"So, the legend says, Jesus and Dismas met again at Calvary, and Dismas on the cross found forgiveness and mercy for his soul."

William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew, vol. 1. The Westminster Press: Philadelphia, pp. 25-26.

A Spider in a Cave

William Barclay tells a lovely story, a legend of protection for the Christ child on the journey from Bethlehem to Egypt.  Herod's armies were in hot pursuit of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

"When Joseph and Mary and Jesus were on their way to Egypt, the story runs, as the evening came they were weary, and they sought refuge in a cave.  It was very cold, so cold that the ground was white with hoar frost.  A little spider saw the little baby Jesus, and he wished so much that he could do something for Him to keep Him warm in the cold night.  He decided to do the only thing he could do, to spin his web across the entrance of the cave, to make as it were, a curtain there.

"Along the path there came a detachment of Herod's soldiers, seeking for children to kill to carry out Herod's bloothirsty order.  When they came to the cave they were about to burst in to search it, to see if anyone was hiding there, but their captain noticed the spider's web.  It was covered with the white hoar frost and stretched right across the entrance to the cave.

"'Look,' he said, 'at the spider's web there.  It is quite unbroken and there cannot possibly be anyone in the cave, for anyone entering the cave would certainly have torn the web.'

"So the soldiers passed on, and left the holy family in peace, because a little spider had spun his web across the entrance to the cave.  And that, so they say, is why to this day we put tinsel on our Christmas trees, for the glittering tinsel streamers stand for the spider's web, white with the hoar frost, stretched across the entrance of the cave on the way to Egypt."

William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew (1958), vol. 1, The Westminster Press: Philadelphia, p. 27.

Encounter

On a return trip from a holiday train excursion to New Orleans, Beth and I found ourselves aboard a coach car on train #58.  Also in our car was a young woman traveling to Carbondale, Illinois with two small children.  She wore jeans and a black t-shirt, her hair adorned with a black and white houndstooth bow.  The beautiful little brown-eyed, brown haired five year old girl, Jasmine, was accompanied by her blond three year old brother, Colton.

Mother equipped children with sticker books and activities to alleviate their boredom across the many miles. The trip began with Subway sandwiches and chips that were sure to run out. The boy was fascinated with the train tracks, the swamp, unseen alligators, fish, frogs, and an orange and green toy gun that fired with a rat-a-tat sound. The little girl played with princess stickers. The train traveled around the west shore of Lake Ponchatrain, alongside the elevated course of Interstate 10, and then turned north.

Early in the trip, the young mother grew distressed by the conductor's news that she was in the wrong car of the train. Our car contained the passengers bound for Jackson, Mississippi. She was headed beyond.  The conductor sought to comfort her, "I will take care of you when we get to Jackson."

The obviously distressed young woman called a friend.  Fear filled her young voice. Beth and I looked at each other. The young lady misunderstood. We knew it.

I interrupted her phone conversation.  "All is not lost, Ma'am," I said. You are not on the wrong train, just the wrong car."

Her face relaxed. Her story tumbled out to her friend on the phone. She was returning with the children to Carbondale.  A relationship with some certain "him" had fallen through. The police had been called. Someone landed in jail.

Compassion filled our hearts as we listened to the children's playful chatter.  We watched a patient, kind, hurting mother care for her well-behaved children.  I wondered about the details of her story, her background, the “him” she had left behind.  I wondered if this nameless mother had anyone in her life to pray for her in her season of distress.

Colton fell asleep a couple of hours into the four hour trip from New Orleans to Jackson.  The little family would arrive in Carbondale in the wee hours of the morning.  Beth and I hustled off the train at the Jackson station.  We had friends to meet, our car to locate in the parking lot, and Christmas presents to seek at the local toy store.

But as we left, we were praying.  We were praying for a young mother, a five year old named Jasmine, and a three year old Colton.

Chance encounter?  Probably not.

Despised, indifferent, or devoted?

Matthew 2:1-18

My Lord and My God!

From the moment of Your birth, people varied wildly in their response to You!  Herod hated You with a despising hostility, pursuing You with one thing on his mind–slaughter!  The chief priests and scribes were completely indifferent, and the wise men demonstrated devoted adoration and worship.

Herod’s insane suspicion knew no bounds.  Someone called him a “murderous old man,” and surely he was.  When the Roman Emperor Augustus learned of Herod’s assassination of three of his own sons, Augustus said that it was safer to be Herod’s pig than to be Herod’s son.  Yes, he built the temple of Jerusalem.  Surely he had moments of generosity, but those moments never seemed entirely selfless.  And then he placed You, the Son of God, in His sinful sights.

The chief priest and scribes did not even seem to care about You.  They were completely enamored with prophecy as an academic study, absent of any wonder or worship.  These spiritual leaders of the Jews should have been the first ones interested in verifying Your arrival.  Their disinterest is astonishing.  As often is true with academics, the chief priests and scribes’ interest never transcended the technical and the theoretical.  You were of no interest to them.  Like the priest and Levite in Your parable of the Good Samaritan, they “passed by on the other side.”

I don’t know all of the details concerning the wise men from the East who attended You in Your infancy.  Apparently, they were experts in philosophy, medicine, and the science of their day.  Apparently, they had some measure of wealth, power, and prestige, but many questions remain. What sense of expectation motivated the wise men to even look for a sign in the heavens?  What was the ancient star which they saw?  How did the wise men know to connect the celestial show to the birth of a king?  Was there some Messianic hope that transcended national boundaries and cultures? How many wise men were there?  How old were You when they arrived?

What about me?  Am I worshiping You in a way that is worthy?  Is my worship despising, indifferent, or devoted?  Lord Jesus, may my worship of You never be conniving, scheming, positioning myself for some advantage.  Help me to worship You with a pure heart of devotion, not from some contemptuous scheme based in intrigue, but from a genuine and transparent heart of perfect love.  I choose to offer You obedient devotion.  

In the Name of Messiah, my Lord Jesus Christ,
Amen.

I GOTTA TELL SOMEBODY

John 1:35-42, Isaiah 53:7, I Corinthians 15:3b, Hebrews 9:28a, I Peter 1:18-19, Revelation 5:12

Precious Lamb of God, my Lord Jesus,

I have always been amazed at John the Baptist’s recognition of you and his accompanying proclamation "Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" Once he knew, John had to tell somebody.

35 years ago, I enjoyed my first visit to Chicago, Illinois. Chicago is a great city. A big city. Big buildings, big history, and big traditions. I remember walking down the streets with college friends. Every new sight, sound, and smell, evoked the same response. We’d poke one another in the ribs, and point. "Look at that!" The gaze inevitably took us upward, as we craned our necks to look at the towers above us. "Look at that! What a sight!" Once we had seen a new, awe-inspiring sight we had to tell someone.

Once John had gazed upon You–the Lamb of God–self was entirely diminished. John did not look at his own reflection, he beheld the Lamb of God. The selfless John referred his disciples to follow You, the Lamb of God.

The Lamb of God. Abel offered the best lamb of his flock as an acceptable sacrifice. Moses offered the Passover Lamb as a sacrifice in Egypt. The Hebrew tabernacle and temple offered the lamb as a sacrifice. Every lamb ever offered pointed to You–the Lamb of God–who would take away the sin of the world. No more lambs ever needed to be slaughtered as a sacrifice for sin. You paid the final price.

Andrew was the first to go and tell. His elder brother, Simon Peter, must know You. The news swept through families and villages.

I remember when my friend David was first saved. David was a 29 year-old alcoholic, running from a call to preach. When You transformed him, David had to tell his brothers Mike, Ab, Harold, and Jim. They had to know Jesus, and David had to tell somebody. David introduced his brother Mike to You, and then You swept through their entire family.

"Behold the Lamb of God." Jesus, Your story is an age-old story, yet fresh as the moment I behold You this morning. I gaze upon You now. I follow You today and beyond. I tell others what I see! Thank You. I am desperate to tell someone today. I need to make some introductions.

In the Name of my Redeemer,

Amen.

Merry Christmas: God Sent us a Savior

If our greatest need had been information, God would have sent us an educator.
If your greatest need had been technology, God would have sent us a scientist.
If our greatest need had been money, God would have sent us an economist.
If our greatest need had been pleasure, God would have sent us an entertainer.
But our greatest need was forgiveness, so God sent us a Savior.

Source Unknown.

Mary Had The Little Lamb

Mary had the little Lamb, who lived before His birth;

Self-existent Son of God, from Heaven He came to Earth. 

Micah 5:2

Mary had the little Lamb; see Him in yonder stall -- 

Virgin-born Son of God, to save man from the Fall.

Isaiah 7:14

Mary had the little Lamb, obedient Son of God;

Everywhere the Father led, His feet were sure to trod.

John 6:38

Mary had the little Lamb, crucified on the tree

The rejected Son of God, He died to set men free. 

1 Peter 1:18

Mary had the little Lamb -- men placed Him in the grave,Thinking they were done with Him; to death He was no slave!

Matthew 28:6

Mary had the little Lamb, ascended now is He;

All work on Earth is ended, our Advocate to be.

Hebrews 4:14-16

Mary had the little Lamb -- mystery to behold!

From the Lamb of Calvary, a Lion will unfold.

Revelation 5: 5,6

When the Day Star comes again, of this be very sure:

It won't be Lamb-like silence, but with the Lion's roar.

Psalm 2:12

Revelation 19:11-16

Marv & Marbeth Rosenthal - Copies of this poem may be used without written permission from the authors.

Christmas Wishbook

I grew up on the campus of Mount Carmel Christian High School near Jackson, Kentucky.  Mom and Dad were dorm supervisors.  We lived in an apartment in the boys dorm.  My brother, James, and I were only twenty months apart.  Mom liked to dress us like twins.  The only problem was, that by James’ second birthday, he was bigger than I.  Today, he stands eight inches taller, and serves as the Shelby County, Kentucky, Superintendent of Schools.  James and I loved roaming the campus, the nearby woods, and Mill Creek.  The only thing missing from our mountaineer adventures was a gun!

All Fall we scoured the Sears & Roebuck Christmas Wishbook.  We dog-eared pages and circled precious items in our wish list.  This year, we both wanted Daisy BB guns.  Mom and Dad were full-time volunteers in a home mission ministry.  I don’t know how they pulled together the resources, but I know that they scrimped, sacrificed,  and saved so that they could bless us children with a memorable Christmas.  The long boxes enticed and excited us on Christmas morning.  We tore off the paper, and pulled free the metal staples.  Out slid our BB guns.  One for James, and a second for John. 

I treasure those precious Christmas memories.  I treasure the memories of sitting on Dad’s lap as he read the Christmas story.  The gifts, the giving, the love, the warmth, and always an emphasis upon our Lord Jesus Christ, God’s greatest gift.

The Lights of Christmas

John 1:1-5, 8:12, Genesis 1:1-5, Luke 2:8-15, Matthew 1:1-11

Eternal Word,

Why do we have lights at Christmas? I think that it’s because of the lights of that first Christmas when You entered the world. Heaven shone the light of the angels upon the shepherds. Eternal Father positioned the star whose light led the wise men from the East to the house where You were staying. You are the Light of the world, and the lights celebrate Your arrival to a sin darkened planet.

It’s interesting to observe the secularization of Your birthday. I remember a book someone wrote a few years ago titled, "The War on Christmas." They author described the symbols of Your birth that are no longer politically correct, and that are being cast aside in an attempt to remove You from our lives. But in spite of all the anti-Christmas and anti-Christ rhetoric, Christmas fighters have not mentioned or attempted to ban one of Your most important religious symbols of the season. It’s the lights! Your light may be one of the most important symbols of this season.

"In the beginning was the Word." Your creative word called this world into existence out of nothing, proclaiming, "Let there be light!" Sometime ago I read that of the 800,000 words in the English language an average person knows 10,000 words and uses 5,000 per day. You spoke Your creative word, and worlds came into existence. Only God can do that, and You did.

Even the godless have to reckon with Your reality. I once read that near the end of his life, the godless philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, told someone: "I do not feel that I am the product of chance, a speck of dust in the universe, but someone who was expected, prepared, prefigured. In short, a being whom only a Creator could put here; and this idea of a creating hand refers to God."

From the beginning of time, You were consumed with Light. You live in Light. Your first Word of creation was light, and I along with John recognize You as the Light. You are the Light of the world. Light has conquered darkness! Light conquered darkness in Creation. Light conquers the darkness of sinful culture from the first century to today.

Jesus, Light of the world, You are our victory over darkness. That’s why we have lights at Christmas. You are the Light of Salvation. You are the Light of the World. Light my world this Christmas. Help me to reflect Your Light to another.

In the Name of the One who is Eternal Light,

Amen.

Singing Handel's Messiah

As a college student, I sang in a Christmas chorus performance of Handel’s Messiah. I remember the soul-stirring solo arias and choral selections of that great oratorio. 

I remember Carla’s aria as she intoned the mystery of the virgin birth. “Behold, the virgin shall conceive!” was punctuated with laughter at rehearsal as we witnessed the incongruity of Carla’s form, seven months pregnant with her third child. Needless to say, someone more suitable had to perform the solo at the public performance!

My friend, Tim, sang the tenor solo, “Comfort ye. Comfort ye my people.” His clear tenor voice rang out with the message of Christmas. Tim went on to graduate from Wesley Biblical Seminary and to become a great leader in the church. Todd’s bass voice resonated the mystery of the resurrection “The trumpet shall sound.” Hours of intense rehearsal were required for me to master some lesser known solos, “Thy Rebuke has broken his heart” and “Thou didst not leave his soul in Hell,” detailing the suffering and death of our Lord. And then there were the favorite choral selections of the Christmas season, always ending with the “Hallelujah Chorus!” 

I remember the story of Handel’s recovery from an incapacitating stroke, and only shortly thereafter rapidly composing the great oratorio in the summer of 1741. I always marveled at the story of his assistant finding him upon completing the Hallelujah Chorus, and Handel’s words through a tear-stained face, “I did think I saw heaven open, and saw the very face of God.”

The message of Christmas is the miraculous message of Messiah. Embrace the glory of the most astonishing theologies of the Christian church: the miraculous conception of Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit and Mary’s virgin birth. The greatest minds of the church have tried to unravel these mysteries. I pray that you have a fresh encounter with the Messiah this miracle-filled Christmas season.

Save Us!

Matthew 1:25, 21:9, Psalm 148:1

Dear Jesus, Savior,

Save us!  “Save us” is the cry throughout the centuries.

When the Hebrew people called the name of their General Joshua, they were crying out “Save us!”  You raised up this leader to be a savior to his people.  What did he save his people from?
Joshua saved his nation with a good report of the land of Canaan. When the 10 spies rebelled with an evil report, Joshua saved everyone under 40 years of age when the people refused to enter Canaan at Kadesh-Barnea.  Joshua saved the Hebrews during forty years of wandering in the desert.  Joshua saved his nation at the flood-tide of the Jordan.  He saved his nation in the conquest of Canaan.  He saved Rahab, the harlot,  at Jericho, and she became one of Your ancestors. He pointed us to You, the One who would “save his people from their sins.”

Hosea, the prophet, saved Gomer, his slave-wife, from the life of prostitution into which she sold herself.  God broke Hosea’s heart for the spiritual prostitution his people had committed against You.  Hosea sought to save the people of Judah who had prostituted themselves after the gods of other nations.  Hosea pointed us to You, the One who would “save his people from their sins.”

Your birth and death were marked with “Save us.”  Mary and Joseph named You Jesus–Hoshea in Hebrew–because You would save Your people from their sins.  On Palm Sunday, the crowds mobbed You crying “Hosanna, to the Son of David!”  They spread their coats on the road as a pavement for You as You rode the donkey into Jerusalem.  “Hosanna, to the Son of David!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest!”

What did it all mean?

“Save us!”

The Hebrew people thought You would be their Savior from international military oppression.  One nation after another–Babylon, Egypt, Rome–had oppressed them.  They wanted a political savior.  They wanted a military savior.  You came for something more.  True salvation. You came to save Your “people from their sins.”  You simply want me to cry from the depths of my soul, “Hosanna, Jesus!  Save us now, Savior!”

Hoshea.  Hosanna.  Jesus.  Save us.

Amen.

Why do so many babies have to die?

Matthew 2:13-23, Jeremiah 31:15

My Precious Lord,

Why do so many babies have to die?  I remember standing by a grave side as a twenty-four year old minister.  I knew little about death, and even less about the death of a baby.  I remember that the baby was stillborn.  It was the young couple’s first child.  The grandparents were grief-stricken.  The mother, still weakened by childbirth could barely stand.  My senior pastor was out of town, and I was called upon to minister to the family at a simple grave side service.  They requested that I read some Scripture and pray.  I did.  If felt miserably weak, helpless, as if I were no comfort to them whatsoever.  Why do so many babies have to die?

And then, it all came home to me.  In 2015 our daughter lost a baby at 20 weeks of pregnancy.  How could I feel so much love for a little one whom I have never even met?  The women of my family have experienced 5 miscarriages of which I know between them.  Mom reminds me of the baby she miscarried before she conceived and bore me.  Why do so many babies have to die?

I remember a favorite high school teacher remarking, “The old must die.  The young may die.”  Then he died of electrocution in a construction accident at age forty-six.  I was 17 years old, and this was my first brush with deep grief.

I hear the tragic stories of babies dying from sudden infant death syndrome.  Recently, a family member told me of a married colleague who was pregnant, and could not afford to birth and feed a fourth child.  Selective abortion was their tragic choice.  Millions multiply this awful sin.  Why do so many babies have to die?

Herod’s  paranoid, delusional mind could not face the possibility of a competitor.  He had already killed and assassinated others his psychosis had suspicioned.  A newborn king of the Jews?  Survival was not an option!  His throne would not be challenged!  His lineage would not be threatened!  No other king of the Jews must be allowed to live!

Your parents secreted You out of Bethlehem.  Your earliest months and years were spent as an alien in a foreign land, Egypt.  You learned to walk as an undocumented alien.  You learned to talk as a foreigner with a foreign tongue in a strange land.  The earliest sand Your mother brushed from Your feet was Egyptian sand.

In the wake of Your departure from Bethlehem, babies died.  Herod killed them.  Josephus did not record it.  Not so much as a blip on the screen of history.  Twenty or thirty dead Bethlehem babies is the estimate.  Not as many as wars and genocides, but each one left an empty cradle and a grieving mother.  It happens time and time again.  Why do so many babies have to die?

Lord Jesus, Lord of life, we are living in a broken, sin-cursed, hurting, grieving world.  Speak peace, hope and life into my world, filled with doubt, questions, confusion...  and dying babies.

In Your Name which is Hope,
Amen.

I Can't Wait

Genesis 3:15, 49:10, Numbers 24:17, Isaiah 9:2-7, Micah 5:2, Revelation 13:8

Precious Savior,

I remember the longing and anticipation I felt as a child waiting for Christmas morning so.  I remember studying the old Sears and Roebuck Wish Book and dreaming of Christmas.  I remember saying, “I can’t wait till...”  But alas, we had to wait.  I remember waiting until that Christmas morning.  I had asked for a BB gun.  I had it all picked out in the Wish Book.  It was lever action, modeled after the 30-30 lever action rifle.  It looked like the guns on the cowboy movies.  It looked like the gun that won the West.  I remember that Christmas morning when I saw the long narrow package under the tree.  James and I both had one.  We had to wait until Dad read the Christmas story.  “I can’t wait...”  We had to wait until Dad prayed the Christmas prayer.  “I can’t wait...”

As soon as Dad said “Amen,” it was like the starter’s pistol at the track meet had fired.  We were off!  We tore at the paper!  I remember getting through the paper to the box.  It was my BB gun!  I tugged at the huge staples at the end of the box.  Dad pulled out his pocket knife to work at them.  They finally came loose and I slid my new BB gun out of the box.  There it was, my new BB gun!  I had said, “I can’t wait!”   But I had waited, and it was worth it.

Perhaps my waiting for Christmas gives me an insight into the longing of the ages–the wait for Your promise.  The wait had started in the Garden of Eden.  The wait for the promised offspring of woman that would set Your people free from the bondage of sin.

Isaiah describes humanity waiting in the dark, until that darkness was penetrated by God’s promise of the Prince of Peace, the Messiah.  Help me to wait in anticipation for You to shatter darkness.  Help me to see You as my hope and deliverance in the face of drudgery, death and oppression.  You are Immanuel, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, the Righteous King, the Divine Servant, the Anointed Preacher, and the Mighty Savior.  You are worth the wait!

As I wait for You to come in a fresh and new way, fill me with wonder at Your first coming.  As I ponder a loving couple, a virgin mother, a long trip, government taxation, angelic hosts, shepherds, and a packed village, help me to make room for You.  I am leaving the VACANCY sign of my heart lit for You.  I wait with anticipation of Your fresh arrival to my heart, dwell in me.

“O come to my heart, Lord Jesus.  There is room in my heart for thee.”

Amen.

Sexless Scandal

John 1:1-5, Luke 1:26-55

Precious Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

The miracle of a baby is one of the most thrilling miracles of all.  Witnessing the miracle of birth is one of the premier soul-stirring experiences of life.  In the birth of my children, I witnessed the smallness of myself, the greatness of God, and one of the most significant contributions I can make to Your Creation!  I have held my own newborn infants.  I have cuddled them, changed them, and kissed their indescribably soft skin.  Miraculous!  And You created all of this!

The miracle of a virgin-born baby, Fathered by the Holy Spirit, is the scandal of religion!  Your plan to introduce God into humanity was one of the riskiest plans of all time.  You risked God being a baby in a world where infant mortality was high. You risked God being birthed by a virgin girl in a world that might stone her as an adulterer.  You risked Your Son suffering cruel rumors of illegitimacy throughout His childhood.  You risked Joseph’s reputation.

When You perform a miracle, You perform it in a big way!  Creating a bit of a scandal is not beneath You!  You can even use scandal to advertise Your miraculous act!

The miracle of a baby who would become the Savior of the world!  God made flesh!  He was born without the taint of sin.  He lived a sinless life that no other person was able to achieve.  He was perfectly holy.  His accusers said that He had to die for it!  You, Holy Father, said that He must die for it... for us... for the sins of the whole world.  He must be the blameless sacrifice, and the only way there could be any redemptive merit to His sacrifice were if He were the sinless Son of God, God made flesh.  He had to be born of a virgin–a sexless scandal.

Thank You, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for the miracle of the Virgin Birth.  I cannot wrap my mind around it all.  I cannot comprehend Your perfect plan envisioned in eternity past.  I cannot comprehend the Holy Spirit’s brooding over Mary and conceiving the Christ in her womb apart from physical copulation.  I cannot comprehend that You, my Lord Jesus Christ, would participate in such a humiliating plan as to be born as a baby.  I cannot comprehend all You gave up to identify with me and my kind... to save us.  I cannot comprehend an entirely holy life, without ever a sin.  I cannot comprehend the voluntary sinless sacrifice of Yourself.

Although I do not understand it all, I believe.  I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of a virgin girl.  I accept by faith all of the provision You make for me through that scandalous act.

In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
Amen.

What a Risk!

John 1, 3:16, Hebrews 9:26, I Peter 1:20, Revelation 13:8

Heavenly Father,

I have recently been pondering the risk You took by sending Your Son, Jesus, to earth.  When I think about it, I am amazed that any Father would risk so much with His own Son.  I never liked to expose my children to risk.  I remember feeling obligated to run to my daughter’s defense and protection.  When I tried to protect my son from risk, he finally told me, “Dad, I’m old enough to fight my own battles.  Don’t try to fix it for me.”

Surely, my instinct to protect my own children is part of Your image stamped on me in Creation. You made this way.  But Your likeness is diminished in me because I suffer under the curse of the Fall.  If I feel this God-given desire to protect my own, You must feel it all the more so. How could You, the Loving Heavenly Father, take such a risk with Your only Son?

You risked His life!  Life expectancy in the first century Roman world averaged twenty to thirty years.  If one lived to age ten, life expectancy might extend to age 45!  The average life span was lowered by a 25% or higher infant mortality.  Nearly one-half of all babies born never saw their tenth birthday!  Yet childbirth was the delivery system You chose to introduce the Savior of the world!  What a risk!

You risked His being an inconvenience.  Parentage by the Holy Spirit is a once in a Creation event!  You performed repeated miracles and angelic announcements to convince even Mary and Joseph, the main players in the saga, of the veracity of such a miracle.  Today, such a conception would be regarded as an inconvenience, and would be ended.  What a risk!

You risked His being an embarrassment.  Apart from Your angelic proclamation, Mary would have been irreversibly embarrassed, exploited, divorced, or even stoned to death.  Her family would have suffered shame.  Perhaps they did anyway.  Your Son would have suffered cruel shame and ridicule.  Perhaps He did anyway.  What a risk!

You risked His rejection.  You placed a radical message of love in Your Son’s heart, and we killed Him for it.  What a risk!

I don’t think I would be willing to risk my children like You risked Your only Son, Jesus.  I am humbled to think that You would take that sort of risk for me, for my sinful soul, for my salvation–all because You want relationship with me.  Thank You.

Thank You, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, for the risk You took for me, and for the entire human race,
Amen.

I'm Running out of Time to Get Ready for Christmas!

Luke 2:21-40

My Loving Lord,

The holidays are hectic.  In the midst of the artificial, I am inclined to forget the real.  Glitz, glamor, and lights sparkle and shimmer.  Shiny wrapping conceals contents unknown, precious or base.  Snow covers a brown earth, turned muddy by spring.  Sales and advertising attract and allure me toward the shopping mall.  My credit card statement climbs higher and higher.

I am preparing for Christmas, but am I making the right preparations?  Am I preparing, or am I participating in a parade of pretense that misses the meaning of Christmas altogether.  Am I constructing a sort of glitz and glamor of Christmas that obscures its true meaning?

My Christmas preparations are consumed with shopping, wrapping presents, dashing from parties to programs, house-cleaning, cooking, and entertaining.  I am exhausted.  I have too much to do!  I get so tuckered out with it all, I don’t know if I will have the time or strength to even get to the Christmas Eve service at church!

Am I missing something?  Preparation is about priority. Are my priorities misplaced?  Christmas is about Your coming.  Do I even know how to get ready for Christmas?  Lord Jesus, how should I prepare myself to celebrate Your birth?  Teach me.

I think of Simeon waiting at temple.  Perhaps Simeon was a retired priest, lawyer, or even a past president of the Hebrew Sannhedrin.  He waited for You in the temple, assured by the Holy Spirit that he would see You, Messiah, before he died.  A lifetime of preparation and waiting lived for a moment of assurance and hope!

I think of Anna waiting at temple.  She had spent a lifetime preparing for Your arrival.  Widowed at a young age, now over one hundred years old, Anna lived in a side room of the Jewish temple.  Anna had readied herself through decades of prayer, fasting, and waiting, and then Anna met You!  A lifetime of preparation and waiting lived for a moment of assurance and hope!

I think I understand a little bit more.  You are teaching me that I must prepare myself to receive You afresh this Christmas, by waiting in preparation in Your Presence.  I must make knowing You my primary priority. So I wait.

In the Name of my precious Savior, Jesus, for whom I wait,
Amen.

Grandpa's Shotgun

I never got to know my Grandpa well.  He died before I turned three years old.  My only memory of him, apart from a few photographs, is his giving me a spanking in the bathroom of his home in Northern Kentucky.  As a boy, I enjoyed staying at that home with my saintly widowed grandmother. 

I was in my mid-teens when Grandma had to break up housekeeping and move in with my parents.  Actually, Grandma had two rooms, one at our house and a second at my aunt and uncle’s home in Ohio.  My dad and my aunt shuttled Grandma back and forth between their homes every two or three months for the final 10 years of her life. 

When Grandma moved out of her home that she had shared with Grandpa, my brother James and I helped dad move load after load of furniture and possessions.  Some things came to our home in Kentucky.  Other things went to my aunt. 

Among Grandma’s possessions was a shotgun that had belonged to Grandpa.  Grandma opened a cherished ancient tin box labeled “Sucrets” to reveal trinkets and treasures.  She lifted a slug of scared lead, and informed me that this slug had been fired from Grandpa’s shotgun when he killed a deer in some ancient hunt.  Curiosity and wonder filled my young mind as I felt the weight of the lead slug in my hand. 

There were two old firearms that belonged to Grandpa, an H & R 12 gauge shotgun, and a 22 revolver.  Dad informed James and me that these two treasures were our bequests from Grandpa, our memory, our connection to an ancestor we would never really know. 

James and I cherished our guns.  I laid claim to the shotgun, and James laid claim to the revolver.  I shot my first squirrel with that shotgun.  I blasted cans and glass jars with it. 

When James was about 13, he took the shotgun out into the Appalachian foothills that we called home.  He had spotted a lone domesticated goose whose ownership was unknown.  The goose was wandering the river bottom farm land along the North Fork of the Kentucky River.  James helped work on that farm.  The goose proved to be an irresistible target to a 13 year old boy with a shotgun and a pocket full of shells.

James brought the goose home to Mom and asked her to cook it!  The tough old bird surprised our teenage teeth.  The longer we chewed, the bigger that goose meat grew in our mouths.  The only thing that James got out of the goose, besides a good story, was a nickname, “Goose,” and he bore that moniker throughout his early high school years.

James and I thought that the old gun needed a makeover.  Someone suggested to us that the barrel needed “blued.”  We found the supplies at the local Maloney’s discount store, stripped down the shotgun in Dad’s shop, and set about an ambitious project as gunsmiths.  Carefully following the directions, we cleaned the barrel of its bluing.  We sanded the wooden stock, removing the ancient varnish.  We re-blued the steel pieces of the shotgun, put a fresh finish of varnish on the stock, and admired our restoration of Grandpa’s cherished shotgun.

James decided that the newly refinished shotgun needed a trial run in the woods.  We had discovered a loose firing pin in our restoration project.  If not handled carefully, the firing pin would fall out of the gun when the hammer was cocked.  After that trip to the woods, we never found the firing pin again.  Now, the old gun was simply a useless piece of décor, a sad reminder of a grandfather we would never get to know. 

It was twenty years before I discovered a friend with incredible handyman skills.  Among those skills were metal work and machining.  I told him about my grandfather’s old shotgun.  The gun had followed me from youth to marriage and fatherhood.  The gun had been stored in one closet after another in different homes in which I had lived.  Suddenly, there was hope that it might fire again.  My friend Jim expertly held the old gun.  He studied the firing mechanism.  He said that he thought he could make a firing pin!

I watched as Jim took a heat-tempered drill bit and cut it to size.  He placed it upon a metal lathe and began shaping.  Once shaped, he fit it perfectly in its rest in the firing mechanism.  We just needed a spring.  A spring from an ink pen would do!  Hope was birthed that the old treasured shotgun would fire again.  It did.  I inserted a shell, locked it into place, pulled back the hammer, and the 12 gauge roared to life!

A few years later, my wife and I bought a little cabin in our Appalachian hills.  One of the rooms in the cabin became the cowboy room.  I made a log bed out of limbs from an old beech tree.  Lariats, horseshoes, worn out cowboy boots, hats, and bandanas graced the décor.  And there, above the window, grandpa’s shotgun graced the room from its rest in a couple of horseshoe hooks.  I pulled the shotgun down at Christmas to shoot some mistletoe out of a black gum tree.  Apart from an occasional firing, it enjoyed its slumber.

After 10 years in the old shotgun’s place of honor, my wife and I moved from Kentucky to Mississippi.  We rented the cabin in the hills to vacationers.  In preparation for renting the cabin, we removed our most cherished possessions, including the shotgun, which found its temporary home in the bottom of an old cedar chest.  That bothered me.  I was bothered that I did not have a place to display the old gun. 

At Thanksgiving, our family always gets together in the hills of Kentucky.  My sisters come home from Florida.  My brother, James, lives in the Bluegrass.  My wife and I make the pilgrimage to our homeland.  We have a Thanksgiving feast, followed by an early Christmas gift exchange.  One year, my sister said, “Next year, let’s not spend any money on gifts.  Let’s just bring something from our homes.  It may be a useful something that we give.  It may be a family heirloom that we share with one another.”

I knew what my gift must be.  The shotgun.  And I knew whom I wanted to have it.  My brother, James.  I placed the shotgun in two large gift bags.  No one knew the contents of the oddly shaped package.  It was overlooked by one family member after another.  Finally, it came James’ turn to pick.  I urged him toward the package.  He moved that direction, and lifted the awkward weight.  Seated, he began to open it.  He knew the contents immediately.  Tears glistened in James’ eyes as he caressed the smooth stock and broke open the barrel.  Memories flooded his mind and mine.  A look of understanding passed between us. 

Cherished stories of youth filled the next moments, and continued to flood my mind.  As children, my closest sibling in age was my brother, James, as we are separated by a mere 20 months.  Sibling rivalry, competing, rooming together, fighting, living, and loving had been a part of our youth.  Now, as graying, middle-aged executives, we were bound together yet again by family, Christmas, shared experiences, a cherished old shotgun, a grandfather we never really knew, and a legacy of love—brothers.

At this Christmas Season, give.  Give generously.  

The Incarnation

Romans 5:6-21, Philippians 2:5-11, Colossians 1:12-20, I Peter 1:13-23

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

What were You thinking when You became human?  What was in Your mind when You came to earth in the form of a baby?  Why would any god set aside all of the privileges of being God?  God just doesn’t do that!  But You did!  And You planned it that way.  Your coming to earth as the Savior of the world was not an afterthought.  It was Your plan all along.

You know what we need.  We need a Savior.  Sin and rebellion has so twisted and distorted our human character that we are estranged from You.  We are separated with a chasm that we cannot cross.  We are darkened in our understanding, corrupted in our moral nature, and desperate for You.

The prophets said You were coming.  They called You names like Immanuel, Messiah, Branch, Joshua, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace.  They were telling of the details of Your birth 700 years in advance!

What a plan!

And then God became flesh.  Conceived by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the virgin girl, born into poverty and relative obscurity, and raised by an earthly surrogate.  You went from the carpenter shop to the cross because You were born to die!

What a plan!  God–born to die!  No other god, no other religion, no other idol would ever construct a bold myth to match the truth of Your Incarnation.

Thank You for Your plan, Holy Father, to send Your Son to be the Savior of the world.  Thank You, Holy Spirit, for implanting the seed of God in Mary’s womb.  Thank You, Jesus, for all You left behind to become the Savior of the world.  You endured the shameful rumors of illegitimacy.  You became poor that we could be rich (II Corinthians 8:9).  You embraced the cross, raised Yourself from the dead, and returned to the Father to pray for us!

God made flesh.  Why did You do that?  It is too great for me to comprehend.  All I can do is to thank You and offer myself to You.  I love You.

Amen.