The Never-Ending Story

Guess what movie I saw yesterday?  The Hobbit!  Again!  “Isn’t once enough?” you ask, but for the girls who live at my house and love a good story, the answer is, “No!”  It takes a second time (and many times more when the DVD becomes available) to notice all the details, pay attention to the excellent soundtrack, and memorize the great lines.  Each time around, we pick up something new, but enjoying a plot we know and love, delighting in our favorite characters, and reliving exciting or poignant scenes are the main reasons multiple viewings are so enjoyable.  Great stories just don’t grow old.

Since it’s Christmas, you can understand.  That story has been around for a while—a couple of millennia, actually.  We know the characters and the plot.  The young, virgin mother.  The faithful and willing stepdad.  No vacancy in the inn. Labor and delivery in the barn. The sleepy shepherds.  The bright angels.  The rush to town.  And the baby “wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger”(Luke 2:12).  Every year, the same story is told over and over and over.  Pageants portray it.  Choirs sing it.  Artists paint it. Teachers tell it.  Pastors preach it.  And it never gets old.

I always knew the story—at least I don’t ever remember not knowing it.  I recall Christmas when I was three or four, standing on the fireplace hearth with my older brother and sister quoting the story for our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  Each family did something special at our Christmas celebration.  Some sang. Some shared.  Ours quoted.  Luke 2:1-20.  Still do—every year before we open presents, now with the kids being our own and us being those middle-aged parents!  It’s a special part of Christmas, but it’s more than tradition.  It’s truth.

Good stories don’t grow old, and God’s story never will.  For ages to come and into eternity, we’ll be telling the story over and over and over—noticing the details, singing along with the soundtrack, quoting our favorite lines, enjoying the plot, delighting in our favorite characters, and being utterly amazed that the Author of the story (who’s also its biggest star) wrote us into it.  “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior.”

The Christmas Story.  Learn it.  Love it.  Live it.  Again and again!

Only Jesus

“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”  Luke 2:11 

 The funerals started a few days ago—the burials of twenty precious children in Connecticut whose lives were cruelly and brutally terminated by the terror of evil.  Families weep in anguish.  Our nation reels in horror.  The questions of Why?, How?, and Who could have? tumble over each other in a mixture of disbelief and dismay.  Brace yourself for the honest and hard answers. Why?  Because “the heart of man is desperately wicked”(Jeremiah 17:9) and because “there is none righteous, no not one”(Rom 3:10 ).  How?  With unflinching precision and determination when a person believes the prevalent lie in our culture that we are creatures evolved by chance.  If such is so, life has no value, eternal accountability for actions is non-existent, and people are free to do as they please.  And who could have pulled that trigger over and over and over? Any of us.  All of us.  But for the grace of God, the darkness and death of our hearts (Eph 2;1, 5:8) could easily defy the restraints of a civil culture and the evil would happen at our hands. 

Friday’s tragic shooting shows the undeniable truth—left to ourselves, mankind is hopeless, helpless, and horrible.  We need a Savior.  And He came at Christmas. “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you”(Luke 2:11).  Jesus didn’t come to boost our egos.  He didn’t come to help our self-esteem.  He didn’t come to make sure we are healthy, happy, and living in a house with a two-car garage.  Jesus came because we are doomed, damned, and “dead in our transgressions and sins”(Eph 2:1).  He came because of the sin that showed up in a bloody carnage at an elementary school.  He came because families and friends are filled with gut-wrenching grief.  He came because we need saving, and only He is our Savior.

“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord”(Luke 2:11).  There is no one else.  The karma of Hinduism and Buddhism is cruel and heartless.  The Allah of Islam is detached and fatalistic.  The crucified and resurrected Jesus is the only comfort for parents staring at the never-to-be opened presents under the tree.  The righteous Jesus who loves justice and extends grace is the only hope for hurting husbands and boyfriends burying the ladies they love.  A sovereign God of unlimited power and unfailing love who was willing to step into our pain and take our punishment and to provide a way for us to be rescued from a for-sure forever without Him is the only answer to our anguished questions and desperate pleas. 

This past Friday doesn’t make sense this side of eternity, but because a Savior has been born, we can be sure that one day it will.  The “good news of great joy”  means the most when we are crushed and crying.  Though evil wrecks havoc and horror in its dying throes, sin will not have the final word.  Our Savior has come, and He is victorious.    

Worth The Wait

“A star will come out of Jacob; a scepter will rise out of Israel.”  Numbers 24:17

The Wise Men must have been waiting.  It seems that as soon as they saw the star, they started their journey and arrived in Jerusalem with certainty and expectation.  “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?  We saw his star in the east”(Matt 2:2). 

At our house, we’ve been waiting—not for anything earth-shattering or life-changing—just for a movie.  But we’ve been waiting for over eighteen months, and when you’re in middle school, as two of my children are, eighteen months is a really long time (and when you’re way past middle school, it’s still quite lengthy!).  We’ve been marking off the days—literally—and, finally, this morning, the countdown calendar read ZERO!  So as soon as school is out, we’re taking a trip—a journey to a town that has a theater, and we’re going to the midnight premiere of The Hobbit.

We know a lot about the story.  Everyone in the family has read the book—that was a prerequisite for attending the show!  We’ve talked about the plot.  We’ve been following the production updates.  We have a poster plastered on the fridge.  We can name the main characters and most of the minor ones too.  We’ve even talked Grandmom and Grandpa into missing most of a night’s sleep and going with us too.  It’s really fun when something you’ve been waiting for for a long time finally happens.

I wonder if the Magi felt that way—and a whole lot more.  They weren’t waiting for a movie; they were waiting for a monarch.  Way back, a guy named Balaam had prophesied that “a star will come out of Jacob; a scepter will rise out of Israel”(Num 24:17).  Obviously, word had made its way to Babylon (most likely through Daniel of lion’s den fame), and the Wise Men were waiting.  And ready to go once the big day arrived.

I’m going to have a great time tonight—riding, chatting, watching, and sharing a special memory and a special movie with those that I love.  It’s been neat how God has used the anticipation of such a small event to remind me of the great expectation of Jesus’s first coming and of how excited I should be for His second. 

Really good movies and a truly righteous Monarch—both are worth the wait!

(Btw, in case you’re a Tolkien fan, I wrote this devotion Thursday, saw the movie Friday night, and raised many cups of coffee that day as a toast to job well done and a story well told!)

 

True Treasure

“To you is born today a Savior.”  Luke 2:11

Today I’m thinking about gifts—white elephant gifts to be exact—because tonight we’re going a party and we’re supposed to take a present.  Not a real present, but one of “those” presents—an item you no longer care to keep in your possession and are delighted to pass on to some other lucky soul.  A white elephant gift. 

Being the somewhat curious sort, I wondered where that label originated, and after only a bit of time on Google, I discovered that in the past, the King of Thailand would give white elephants to members of his court whom he found obnoxious because the high cost of care for the creature would cause their financial ruin.  Hence, a valuable but burdensome gift whose cost of upkeep exceeds its usefulness came to be called a white elephant gift.  Over time, the worth of these gifts seems to have lessened, and the term is now synonymous with a present which is cheap—or, better yet, free.

The best part about a white elephant gift is the fun you have while playing the gift exchange game because when you get home with your newly acquired possession, about the only good thing to do with it is to store it until the same party next Christmas!  White elephant gifts are entertaining, they might be useful, they occasionally can be a bit valuable, but by definition and tradition, they are not needed.

Jesus was not a white elephant gift.  The tag on heaven’s perfect present read, “To you a Savior has been born”(Luke 2:11).  The Gift was personal—“To you.”  Not to some random participant in life who drew the lucky number or the last number, but specifically to you individually and intimately.  “To you a Savior has been born.”  You need one desperately, for having Someone to save us is not merely useful but absolutely imperative.  Without Him we are definitely doomed and damned.  And the Gift was precious, for His true value is beyond our finite measure and understanding.

Interestingly, throughout history, the possession of a white elephant was a sign that a king reigned with justice and power, and that his kingdom was blessed with peace and prosperity.   Our King has come and is coming again.  He reigns with justice—the justice of the cross and the justice of holiness.   He reigns with power, holding the universe together and holding life and death in His hand(Eph 1:19).  And He is our peace and prosperity—lavishing on us His abundant love(1 John 3:1). This glorious, royal Gift is free to us because of God’s grace and goodness, but He is not cheap. 

White elephant gifts are often wrapped well but contain little worth.

The present of our King was wrapped humbly but was priceless.

 

    

Broken Beauty

“To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy, be glory, majesty, power, and authority, now and forevermore.”  Jude 1:24-25

A few days ago as I unpacked my nativity, I was struck again by its beauty—the rich colors of the Magi, the shepherd’s earthy hue, Mary’s soft sweetness, Joseph’s proud relief, and the angel’s heavenly hovering.  But what I noticed even more than its beauty was its brokenness.  You might not see it at first glance, but a closer inspection will reveal cracks, crevices, and chipped off paint.  An errant handstand by one of my offspring a few Christmas seasons ago led to the realization that given the right force, heads (even holy ones) will roll and that ceramic angels don’t fly—they fall.

Copious amounts of Super Glue reattached most of what was missing, but now, instead of perfection, it’s a motley crew around the manger—a bunch of broken people  bowing low before the special baby.  I think my manger scene is perfect. 

It’s really the only way to come, you know—broken and cracked, with parts of what we thought was our best side chipped away by life’s realities of sin, sadness, and disappointment.  Until we acknowledge that we’re mixed up and messed up, we’ll never appreciate the gift lying in the manger, and we’ll never understand what He had to feel to fix us.

Sometimes we like to gloss over the depths of our depravity, applying another coat of pretend to give the appearance of seamless innocence.  Often we fake our feelings, afraid to show our struggles and sorrow and seem weak to those who might not understand.  But none of our facades or refurbishings can hide the fact that a mighty fall has left us in a hopeless dilemma, and when we finally and honestly say so, and shout so, and gladly admit that we are broken, then we can know the healing blessings of His mighty grace. 

Jesus didn’t come to just put us back together; He came to make us brand new. In this world of hurt and heartache as we struggle with our own failures and the faults of others, He will hold our breaking hearts, and one glorious day, the God “who is able to keep us from falling will present us before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy”—unbroken—to be with Him forever(Jude 1:24-25).

None who are perfect need come.  The motley crew around the manger is beautiful because it is broken.  And because He is whole.

Who's Not There?

“O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.”

Quick Christmas Quiz—What do you call the grouping of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, shepherds, magi, angels, and obligatory farm animals??  If you said nativity, manger scene, crèche, or something close, you’re right!!   Most of us have at least one of these in our homes during Christmas, but why?  What is the purpose of the porcelain, ceramic, wood, plastic, or Popsicle stick figurines we proudly display on our coffee tables and counter tops?

The obvious reason is decoration.  Manger scenes are pretty.  Whether painted brightly or polished smoothly, they look nice and people notice them.  (One of my favorites was a Waterford crystal nativity gracing a black top table at a former place of employment.)  There just isn’t an ugly nativity.  Even those which are faded or fashioned by the least-artistic still display an intrinsic beauty because of the story they represent.

Sharing this story is the second reason we set up manger scenes—for declaration.  There, in varied arrangement, a few small statues reveal the most amazing narrative—the true tale of  the God who didn’t want to live without us and so He came to us, wrapped in baby-soft skin, born in a barn, lying in a manger.  No wonder Mary and Joseph always look amazed, the shepherds seem so awed, the Wise Men stand mouths gaping with gifts forward, and the angel hovers above proud and protective.  This simple scene silently states to those who see it that there is a God—a God who cares.

His love leads to the third purpose for a nativity—invitation.  The assorted assemblage around the manger beckons us all—needy, wealthy, well-known, obscure, or ordinary—to come and worship.  To pause what we’re doing and say thanks.  To stop our holiday scurrying and ponder the wonder that God came to be with us.  That’s why, this year, my manger scene has an empty spot—a big, bare space to Mary’s left.  Though a quick glance confirms that all normal characters are present, it looks like someone is missing—because I am.  Each time I look at my nativity, I am invited kneel by the manger and join the adoration .

Try it this Christmas.  Rearrange your nativity.  Move over the Wise Men and make room for one more. You.

Perfect Communion

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven.”  John 6:51

This past Sunday, to celebrate the start of Advent, my church lit the candle of hope and shared a special communion.  Since I was involved in the music of all three services, I took part in all three communions.  Well, sort of…

Because I played the piano while the elements were passed, my participation depended entirely on what was given to me by someone else.  During one service, I received no bread at all.  During another, the supply of regular communion bread was soon depleted, and the elders resorted to breaking off bits of a leavened loaf used for illustration.  But, finally, during the third service, bona fide Lord’s Supper bread came my way.

This experience started me thinking.   Our lives are much like my communion experience.  Unable to reach what we need on our own, we are entirely dependent on what we are given by Someone else.  And Jesus had a choice.

He could have not come to earth at all, leaving our hearts like my hands during Sunday’s first service—empty.  No bread.  Or He could have come but then sinned by giving in to Satan’s temptations.  This failure would have disqualified Him from being the perfect sacrifice we so desperately needed.  He would have become leavened bread—the right stuff tainted by a wrong ingredient.  But, instead of leaving us eternally lost by His absence or His selfish actions, Jesus came to be just what we needed—perfect Living Bread from heaven who was arrived as a baby, lived a sinless life, and died as our bona fide substitute.  “I am the living bread that came down from heaven”(John 6:51). 

On Sunday, as I finally held that little square of special sweetness in my hand (at my church communion bread is sweet and yummy—email me for the recipe!), I kept thinking, “Thank you, Jesus, that You are always more than enough to go around, that You are all always all I need, and that You are never not there.”  As we start our Christmas celebration, let’s begin by being glad Jesus showed up—and that we don’t ever get left out.

Sunday’s communion was special because through man’s imperfection I realized more of God’s perfection.

And don’t even ask about the grape juice.