22 December 2007
As I think back about Christmas, three memories come to my mind. One involves the gift of a bike that my father 'won' at a convenience store (he 'won' it by entering in a drawing, but didn't get his name selected. He found the winner and bought the bike from him). Another memory involves the lavish get-togethers my grandparents put on annually, filled with family, friends, fruitcake, and fun. The third memory has a story behind it that started a few days before Christmas in 1991.
On that occasion, I tagged along with my father to put gas in his work truck. As we stepped out of the vehicle, a brisk wind hit me, followed by something cold on my nose. I looked around and saw in the inky darkness the images of snowflakes. "Is it actually snowing?" I asked Dad when he returned from inside the store.
"Sure looks like it."
We returned home and had dinner, but something was eerie about snow at the beach. Oh well, I thought, it's not cold enough for the snow to stick, so enjoy looking at it while you can. The snow began to fall harder, and I soon fell asleep with dreams of a neighborhood football game for the next day—maybe.
The next morning arrived, and after dressing I went to the front door and took a look.
Something was wrong.
There was at least a foot of white powder on the ground, and snow was still falling. It continued to come down all morning (the football game was a bigger success than usual) and into the evening. The big problem was that nobody expected snow to fall in North Myrtle Beach in December, so there was no way to get snowplows in the area to clear the roads. Life in town grinded to a standstill.
It stopped snowing the next morning, but the damage was done, with 28 inches on the ground. And our town had its first (and only) White Christmas in history.
To many of us in town, it was a miracle of sorts.
Of course, Christmas is more than snow, presents, and gatherings, despite what one would be led to believe by watching commercials and reading the newspaper. It says, right in the name, that it has to do with Christ.
And his story was a miracle that far eclipsed unexpected snow in a seaside community.
Why?
It all started when God looked down at the earth and considered humanity. His creation had chosen to live lives apart from him. God had already taken the extreme step of flooding the world and starting over with Noah and his family (see Genesis 6-8). But alas, man's sins and errors continued on.
Jesus explains what happened next in a parable he told the people in Jerusalem a few days before his death (and later return to life):
"There was once a man, a wealthy farmer, who planted a vineyard. He fenced it, dug a winepress, put up a watchtower, then turned it over to the farmhands and went off on a trip. When it was time to harvest the grapes, he sent his servants back to collect his profits. The farmhands grabbed the first servant and beat him up. The next one they murdered. They threw stones at the third but he got away. The owner tried again, sending more servants. They got the same treatment" (Matthew 21:33-36 [The Message]).
God sent prophets and leaders to help bring people to an active relationship with him. Some people listened, but others ignored their teaching and, in the case of a few, killed them. What was God to do? He already promised that he wouldn't flood the earth again. Yet he intensely desired a relationship with humanity.
Jesus reveals what he decided to do: "He decided to send his son. 'Surely,' he thought, 'they will respect my son'" (Matthew 21:37 [The Message]).
That's where Christmas falls in the cosmic lineup of God's ultimate plan. Jesus was born under extraordinary circumstances at an extraordinary time in history. The world needed a Savior. And there he was—in a dark, smelly cave, surrounded by animals created by God himself.
Yet as Jesus explained later in life, the people eventually turned on him: "But when the farmhands saw the son arrive, they rubbed their hands in greed. 'This is the heir! Let's kill him and have it all for ourselves.' They grabbed him, threw him out, and killed him" (Matthew 21:38-39 [The Message]).
Thankfully, that was part of the plan all along. The baby in the manger was born to die. For without Jesus' death and return to life, Christmas is nothing more than just another story passed on from generation to generation.
This was driven home to me a number of years ago around Easter, when the pastor of our church mentioned that the wooden cross on stage was made from the Christmas tree that held ornaments a few months earlier. Without one, you cannot have the other.
So may you take time to reflect on this year and to consider the importance of Christmas in your heart. And in these upcoming days, may God refresh you, that you may in turn refresh others.
"He was created of a mother whom He created. He was carried by hands that He formed. He cried in the manger in wordless infancy, He the Word, without whom all human eloquence is mute.""
--Augustine
"While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn."
--Luke 2:6-7 (NIV)
Have a Merry Christmas!
--J. Alan Sharrer
http://purerefreshment.blogspot.com
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