275 Sermon Illustrations on Christmas

Divine speech is articulation of God’s presence. … The Magnificat is a biblical theology in miniature, because it begins and it ends in an exaltation not of Mary but of the Word.

— Samuel Terrien in The Magnificat: Musicians as Biblical Interpreters

#4236

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Do you feel Jesus’ birthday has become too commercialized? Is the Pope Catholic? Every family struggles to bring the true meaning of Christmas to their family and some have found that a little drama helps. John and Doris Schrum had a tradition that their boys will always remember. They started with a Cresh display on the fireplace mantle, the typical Christmas stable with a little manger inside. But instead of putting it all together, the characters were dispersed throughout the living room. The Wise Men would be in the dining room, the Shepherds on a lamp table in the living room, and Mary and Joseph were on the opposite end of the fireplace mantle.

Every day Ed and Jack would move Mary and Joseph a little closer to the stable. Actually, they moved them a lot closer and every night Doris would have to move them back a little because December 5 is too early for the Holy Family to arrive. Slowly but methodically all the characters converged on the Cresh. Finally, on Christmas eve they came together, with shepherds and angels giving hallelujahs. Except for the Wise Men - they weren’t there on Christmas, of course! The Schrums were astute enough to know the Wise Men arrived twelve days after Christmas, long after the Christmas debris is supposed to be cleared away. In the Schrum house the finale of Christmas is the arrival in the new year of the Wise Men with their tiny gifts. A little bit of drama, day by day, and the story is told. What does your family do to keep Christ in Christmas?

Sermon outline from a Christmas card:

HE COMES WHERE HE IS WELCOMED

The innkeeper made his stable available-

JESUS WAS BORN THERE

Mary and Martha made their home available-

JESUS RESIDED THERE

The merchant made his upper room available-

JESUS SUPPED THERE

The wealthy man made his tomb available-

JESUS WAS BURIED THERE

The believers make their hearts available-

JESUS LIVES THERE

On Christmas Day, 1962, a newspaper did a very unusual and strange thing. It had two front pages. In a box on the first front page, the editors explained the reason for this unique edition Under the heading, "Good News I Today," they wrote: "In keeping with the Christmas spirit and tradition, The Times this morning has two front pages. Only good news and news in the holiday vein appear on this page. For full reports on other happenings around the world, please see the second front page. (3A) Merry Christmas!"

The suggestion, perhaps unintended by the editors but nevertheless apparent, was that these two types of events had nothing to do with each other. The beauty and the loveliness of Christmas must not be touched by the sordid realities of our world. And it was implied that there was nothing in the Christmas story that could have any bearing on the ugly events of everyday life.

Matthew did not publish two front pages, one announcing the holy birth and the other dealing with the historical events of the day. The accounts are kept side by side. This implies that our only hope is to keep the two worlds together.

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In her 1985 Christmas letter, Madeleine L’Engle wrote:

“Observe and contemplate.

Make real. Bring to be.

Because we note the falling tree

The sound is truly heard.

Look! The sunrise! Wait--

It needs us to look, to see.

To hear, and speak the Word.

Observe and contemplate

The cosmos and our little earth.

Observing, we affirm the worth

Of sun and stars and light unfurled.

So let us, seeing, celebrate

The glory of God’s incarnate birth

And sing its joy to all the world.

Observe and contemplate.

Make real. Affirm. Say Yes,

And in this season sing and bless

Wind, ice, snow; rabbit and bird;

Comet and quark; things small and great.

Oh, observe and joyfully confess

The birth of Love’s most lovely Word.”

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A woman went to her doctor's office for a minor complaint. She was seen by a younger doctor, fresh out of medical school. After about four minutes, the woman burst from the examination room, screaming as she ran down the hall. The head doctor in the practice stopped her and asked what happened; she explained. He sat her down in order to compose herself.

The older doctor marched back to the young doctor and demanded, "What's the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 63-years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and you tell her she's pregnant?"

The new doctor smiled smugly as he continued to write on his clipboard, "Cured her hiccups though, didn't it?"

[Seen in several locations on the Internet; author unknown; edited for publication.]

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It was Christmas Eve, and the first of fourteen thousand townspeople began streaming through the building's huge double doors. A beam of light shone down from above, as though from heaven itself, highlighting an elaborate Nativity scene. Marble angels gazed down upon the largest pipe organ in the world. As people settled into their seats, the organist struck a chord and led the crowd in singing the first hymn: "O Come, All Ye Faithful."

Does this sound like a Christmas Eve service at a 1990s' megachurch? If you said "yes," you guessed wrong. This spectacular Christmas celebration took place, not in a church at all, but in a department store. It was an annual attraction that drew shoppers to the leading Philadelphia department store, Wanamaker's, from the 1910s to the 1950s. And it illustrates how America's Christmas consumerism has some of its roots, ironically, in our own Protestant tradition.

As strange as it may seem today, Christmas was not always treated as a holiday in America. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, few Americans really celebrated Christmas. Influenced by their Puritan heritage, Congregationalists, Presbyterians, Baptists, and Methodists viewed Christmas Day with suspicion, regarding it as a Roman Catholic invention with dubious origins. The emphasis on the Nativity, they believed, grew out of devotion to Mary.

For example, in 1659 the Massachusetts General Court outlawed the celebration of Christmas. In the 1770s a Presbyterian teacher described Christmas as being "like other Days, in every Way calm & temperate. People go about their daily business with the same Readiness." Even as late as the 1880s Methodists insisted that Christmas was simply a day of family reunions and good works. "We attach no holy significance to the day," a Methodist publication boasted.

Protestant reluctance to celebrate Christmas had one major side effect. In his book Consumer Rites, Princeton professor Leigh Eric Schmidt writes that keeping Christmas off the Church calendar helped pave the way for its inclusion in the secular calendar. While clergy downplayed Christmas, businessmen and department store magnates like John Wanamaker stepped in where angels feared to tread, fostering the celebration of Christmas in the marketplace instead of the church. As Schmidt put it, Christmas became "one more market day, a profane time of work and trade."

For some of us, this is shocking news. Could the roots of Christmas consumerism be in our own tradition? Well, history suggests that Christmas became such a commercialized holiday, in part, because Protestants did not make it a holy day.

Of course, the celebration of Christmas in the marketplace is not all-bad. Many of us delight in shopping in stores decked with boughs of holly while listening to Yuletide carols as we select gifts for our friends and families.

So if we're partly responsible, let's make up for it. Instead of just griping about the commercialization of Christmas, let's do something about it. Let's make up for our past errors by filling our churches this Christmas. If we present to the world a worshipping community, they'll be drawn to the real thing -- not a manufactured substitute. If our candle-lit Churches and Cathedrals are full of Christians living in real harmony and love, then nothing in those glittering shopping malls can possibly compare.

Because there, in the community of faith, we can fully grasp the significance of our Savior's birth. And nothing gives us more cause for joyous celebration than that.

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Copyright (c) 1999 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

Among the carols filling the air in Britain at Christmastime is the story of a 10th-century king braving the snow — ”deep and crisp and even” — to help a poor man gathering firewood.

“Good King Wenceslas” sets out to deliver food, wine, and logs, and the shivering servant who accompanies him finds that the king’s very footsteps are warm. “Ye who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing,” the final verse promises.

The carol begins with the king looking out “on the Feast of Stephen.” St. Stephen’s Day falls the day after Christmas and honors the first Christian martyr, whose story can be found in the Book of Acts. John Mason Neale, the 19th-century Anglican priest who composed the words to “Good King Wenceslas,” was alluding to a long history of charitable giving on the day.

Yet for the vast majority in Britain today, December 26 is simply Boxing Day. If there’s a tradition covered in the press, it’s that of the Boxing Day sales, when bargain-seeking crowds descend on the country’s malls, akin to Black Friday in the United States.

Francis Young, a UK-based historian of religion and belief, points out that even the idea of shops opening the day after Christmas is a recent development. “It would have been known as St. Stephen’s Day certainly right down to the middle of the 19th century,” he said in an interview with Christianity Today.

The name Boxing Day can be traced to around 1830, but “Christmas boxes” associated with the holiday date back to the 17th century. These were clay containers with a slot for coins, like piggy banks. At Christmas, the collected money was distributed to servants as well as tradespeople who delivered goods like mail, milk, and meat.

Not everyone was entirely happy with the system, Young noted. The 18th-century satirical writer and Anglican priest Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver’s Travels, grumbled that he would be “undone” by the custom, complaining about the “rogues” in coffeehouses raising their expected donations.

Today, few British people are still familiar with the traditional Christmas boxes. While the custom of tipping tradespeople has not entirely died out, its decline reflects the centuries of economic shifts. With online shopping, parcels are dropped off by a courier or driver the purchaser will never meet again. The internet has given rise to brief, transactional encounters.

Yet across the country, churches are keeping the tradition of charitable giving alive. At St. Paul’s, Marylebone, in central London, the church serves a Boxing Day lunch to up to 100 guests. Many live alone; others come with family, keen to partake in a community event.

In recent years, a minibus has brought residents from a nearby nursing home. The church is filled with tables and chairs and volunteers come to cook and serve the meal, with food donated by a local hotel. The school connected to the church collects gifts to give out to guests while a local hairdresser sets up a salon in a back room. Carols are sung, and the meal begins and ends with a prayer.

“We’ve always tied it in [to] being St. Stephen’s Day as much as Boxing Day,” said St. Paul’s rector Clare Dowding. “It’s usually begun with a service of some sort at ten o’clock: either prayers or a Eucharist. What I’ve always loved about that is that the Eucharist is taking place at the church at one end with a portable altar, and then, as all our volunteers arrive in the morning to chop sprouts and carrots, they sit there chopping and listening and sharing the carols and Communion.”

For Dowding, the annual day-after-Christmas gathering “has a lovely sense of being part of the St. Stephens’ Day celebration: a feast day that not only connects with St. Stephen but also historically with that sense of caring for our community, caring for one another.”

Christmas Day and Boxing Day can be a lonely time for people, she observes. “Especially if you are watching TV and it’s all about the happy family story. ... It’s not so much the food as actually the company, that sort of fellowship.”

Charitable giving is not the only custom associated with Boxing Day.

“It was very much, in medieval England, a continuation of Christmas,” said Young. Among the traditions observed were theater going and hunting (including the belief that this was the one day of the year on which you could hunt the wren, “the king of the birds”).

Centuries ago, rural communities could expect a visit from the mummers, amateur actors who would put on folk plays, such as the story of St. George defeating the dragon. These later gave way to pantomimes — comedies, often based on fairy tales, that continue to attract large crowds today.

Described by one early 20th-century bishop as “the great annual home festival,” Boxing Day was also a rare opportunity for servants and low-paid workers to visit their own families after spending Christmas Day serving someone else’s.

And while government statistics show that few if any weddings take place on Christmas in the UK these days, well into the 20th century it was a popular choice for poorly paid workers unable to afford to take a day off. Boxing Day was a chance for a brief honeymoon. In 1937, the Anglican newspaper Church Times reported that a minister in the East End of London, a working-class area, had 12 couples to marry on the 25th.

While unlikely to be conducting weddings the day before, many of today’s clergy receive Boxing Day as an opportunity for a well-earned rest. In recent years, UK pastors have started a new tradition on social media called the Clergy Malt Club, sharing selfies of drinking whiskey or a similar drink after midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.

But not everyone will be putting their feet up. When Andy Todd arrived in Worcestershire, in the English West Midlands, he was advised never to work for a church dedicated to St. Stephen “because it means that you don’t get to hang up your stole until well after Christmas Day.”

He has no regrets about taking up his position as priest in charge at St. Stephen’s, Barbourne in the city of Worcester. On December 26, the congregation gathers for a special service celebrating its patron saint.

The church burns incense, clergy wear their “finest robes,” and a senior church leader in the area comes to celebrate the Eucharist. The church also invites a newly ordained minister to preach, in recognition of the fact that St. Stephen was not only the first Christian martyr but also one of the first deacons.

For the relatively small number who attend the service, it’s a precious occasion, Todd says. “For many people, to be able to come and celebrate Communion on the day after Christmas is a really important part of their own devotional practice. ... I must say, I come to the end of it with a feeling of real joy.”

Todd called St. Stephen’s Day a “poignant festival.” His church’s huge west window tells the story of the saint’s martyrdom. “A lot of Christmas celebration outside is rather superficial and a bit glitzy,” he said. “But actually, to the whole Christmas story, there’s this dark edge running through it, and coming back to St. Stephen at the end of it is a reminder of that.”

His congregation will be among those singing “Good King Wenceslas,” with its themes of poverty and isolation. With many in the UK facing a cost-of-living crisis, including rocketing energy bills, St. Stephen’s, like many churches across the country, is open this winter as a warm place where people can take shelter.

The Worcester church has another link to the tradition of charitable giving too. Wealthy residents funded its construction in the mid-19th century so servants living in the northern part of the city wouldn’t have to travel and pay tolls to worship each week.

“They built St. Stephen’s — a deacon, servant — for the servants to the city,” Todd said. “There’s a lovely historical resonance there.”

Having been ordained seven years ago, after working for decades in industry, he recalls that “Boxing Day, for me, had a slight sense of flatness after the Christmas hype and a sense of fullness from having eaten too much. It was TV, increasingly shopping, and it felt very inward-looking and a bit shallow. I found that coming to St. Stephen’s and having this particular emphasis on the day is a real celebration of community and of service.”

The Archbishop of York, one of the most senior leaders in the Church of England, agrees.

“For me, Boxing Day will always, first of all, be St. Stephen’s Day,” Stephen Cottrell said. “The Christian calendar confronts us with the remembrance of the first Christian martyr on the day after we celebrate Jesus’ birth. No cozy stable is allowed. If we choose to follow this child, there will be challenge, there will be conflict, there will be consequences.

“So, my Boxing Day will mean a walk, cold turkey, bubble and squeak, a movie on the TV, but also church. The Eucharist on Boxing Day, or St. Stephen’s Day, tells me what Christmas means for me.”

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Madeleine Davies is senior writer at the Church Times in London and author of Lights for the Path: A Guide Through Grief, Pain, and Loss.

The Christmas story isn't a children's fairy tale.

How often during these days of holiday preparations do we hear people say, "This is what the season is all about!" Maybe we say it ourselves: Through a misting of tears, perhaps, as we look over our family gathered at the table. Or at the end of a well-sung Christmas concert.

I've heard it most often when someone is talking about children. Some folks even say, "Christmas is for children." Do they mean that Christmas is no more than fairy-tale wonderment? For sure, December is chock-full of kid fun, from cartoon specials and candy treats to Santa and his sack.

Even when we say, "Let's not lose the real meaning of Christmas," that points us to the manger where we find — a child! But just because Christmas is about the coming of a child does not make it childish.

Before we even come to the climatic episode of Christ's birth, we stub our toes on this little hidden rock of faith concealed in the story's beginning.

It's when the angel Gabriel tells Mary of God's plan, which includes her participation. It's out of sync with her plans and seems humanly impossible. We hear this text on the fourth Sunday in Advent, often the day congregations stage their children's pageant. This incredible story could open these plays.

We'd all be reminded that Mary is a bit perplexed — and shocked — hearing that she is about to bear a child. Before the multitude of angels announced Jesus' birth — the "reason for the season" — this one angel tells a lone young woman what all of this is going to do, to prove, to mean. Here's the point of it all, Gabriel proclaims: Nothing will be impossible with God.

This statement of faith hasn't found its way into the messages on our Christmas cards. But it is the explanation Mary received. It's what the season reveals: Nothing will be impossible with God.

GROWING UP IN FAITH

One of the reasons I loved my parents as a little child was that nothing seemed impossible for them. They seemed to know everything. And anything I needed or needed to know, they were able to provide.

Of course, a part of growing up is the slow realization that parents don't have all the answers to the world's problems — or to ours. Believing your parents can do anything is a fairy tale that fades.

Throughout the millennia the believer's relationship with God has often been described as one of child and parent. "Our Father who art in heaven," begins our most common prayer. Some also use the image of God as Mother or Grandfather, but the relationship is the same. We are like the 3-year-old walking through life with our parents, needing and trusting them to provide everything. Children have little problem believing that with God nothing is impossible because they live it in their little lives every day.

I'm afraid when I hear someone say, "Christmas is for children."

I fear that we will miss Gabriel's incredible statement to Mary: For nothing will be impossible with God. If Christmas is only for children, if we have grown beyond it, then what is Christmas for us?

The book of Daniel, a writing designed to boost the faith and courage of a people being oppressed and tortured by foreign powers, contains the well-known story of three young men who are threatened with death in the fiery furnace if they don't worship foreign idols. They refuse to do so.

The mighty King Nebuchadnezzar, who believes he holds their lives in his hands, asks them what god will save them. They answer: It may be that our God will come and save us from your hand, but know this, even if it seems that God is going to let us be burned up, we will still believe!

These ancestors in the faith standing before the heat of the oven, and Mary kneeling in the coolness of the angel's wings, accepted the grown-up truth about faith in God's possibilities. Putting yourself in God's hands means trusting in the promise that God will work all things for good in God's way, in God's time, in God's economy. It does not mean we will always understand what is happening in us, through us, to us — or why.

Mary's belief in God's possibilities led her to be an embarrassment to her family, unwed and pregnant. Later she watched her son executed as a criminal. Some blessed life!

The three men before the furnace did not assume their faith would save them. But they acknowledged that even death could not kill the hope within them.

The Christmas story is nothing like the Disney fairy tales where all your self-centered dreams come true. No rags-to-riches. No happily-ever-after that the world would understand.

Taking the Christ Child into our hearts does not guarantee our cancer will be cured, our jobs will be secure or our children will all be above average. We aren't wishing upon a star. We're being led by one. And that makes all the difference in how we understand our lives.

I hear about a man in the last stages of cancer, and I ask his sister if he belongs to a church, if he has a pastor to care for him. She answers, with regret, that he left the church 30 years ago — after the loss of a second child. She didn't need to explain further.

Most of our congregations have among their inactive members the names of our brothers and sisters who have been crushed with despair and disappointment.

The Christmas promise of God's possibilities is challenging in the face of the tragedy, oppression and hopelessness the world can send our way.

But the message of this season is clear: Nothing is impossible with God. The Christmas angels tell us there are no God-forsaken people or places. Emmanuel is here — God with us, and with us all the time.

In this Christmastide as we hear the story again, we each must choose whether to receive it as fairy tale or truth. For nothing will be impossible with God, the angel said. We can only assume that includes turning our impossible hearts as well.

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The Lutheran | 8765 W. higgins rd. | chicago, il 60631 | usa | 773 380 2540

©1999 Augsburg Fortress.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling -- something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation -- as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value -- the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends -- a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do -- oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two -- and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again -- you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice -- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you -- sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year -- what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs -- the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims -- just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men -- wonderfully wise men -- who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

*

Harry Emerson Fosdick told the story of General Pickett's baby. It was

during the last slaughterous days of the Civil War when the Confederates

locked horns with the Union soldiers outside of Richmond. It was the

cruelest time of the whole war. Then one night the Confederate lines were

lighted with bonfires, and the Union guards discovered that the Southern

troops were celebrating General Pickett's newborn baby, word of whose

arrival had just reached the army. General Grant was so moved by the event

that he ordered the Union lines to help the Confederates celebrate the birth

of Pickett's baby by lighting up the scene with additional bonfires.

The next day Grant's officers sent a graceful letter through the lines under

a flag of truce, communicating to General Pickett the congratulations of his

enemies!

Isn't that incredible?

For a moment, at least, the insanity and slaughter of war stopped, and good

will and peace prevailed - and it was all because of a baby!

We cannot hear that story and not think of the baby who was born in

Bethlehem. "His name will be called Jesus," announced the angel, "for he

will save his people from their sins." We cannot draw closer to the

Christ-child without also drawing closer to God, his Father, and as we draw

closer to God, our sinfulness decreases and the spirit of peace and goodwill

toward others and God increases.

John Thomas Randolph, The Best Gift, CSS, 1983, pp. 26.

Mistletoe and Holly

Sometimes it takes an imitation to reveal the genuine.

In the year 337, theologians first began the observance of

Christmas because many Christians were joining their

neighbours on December 25th to celebrate the birth of the

sun god, Mithras. Unable to eliminate the practice, the

church of the day worked hard to change the holiday into a

holy day. Many of the things we now associate with

Christmas have undergone a similar transformation.

Mistletoe, for example.

Two hundred years before Jesus was born, the Druids (the

educated class of the Celts) celebrated the start of winter

by burning mistletoe as a sacrifice to their gods. Sprigs

were also hung in homes to ensure a year of prosperity and

family harmony. If enemies happened to meet under a tree

with mistletoe growing on it, they had to lay down their

weapons and make peace for a day.

Named "All heal" by the Druids, mistletoe was prescribed

as an antidote for everything from poison to infertility.

It was also a plant of peace, hope and harmony for

Scandinavians. Mistletoe was associated with the love

goddess Frigga, which is where the kissing custom comes

from. Even the Romans wove the plant into boughs to

decorate their homes during festivals.

But when Christmas was formally recognized as a

Christian holiday, mistletoe was banned because of its pagan

origins. Holly was used as a substitute. Its sharp leaves

were to be a reminder of the thorns in Christ's crown and

the red berries a remembrance of His blood drops. Even in

the early part of this century, mistletoe in corsages was

still banned in some churches.

Today, many Christians go further, shunning anything to

do with Christmas because of the holiday's pagan past. They

assume God will be pleased. Perhaps. But there's little

evidence the Lord is angered when His children deflect

attention from the profane and use it to reflect His glory

instead. Jesus was always more concerned about a tree's

fruit than its roots.

Over and over, the Lord used social customs and

conditions to teach spiritual truths. His apostles taught

that motives count even more than the mechanics of faith (1

Cor. 13:1-3). Rejecting anything that isn't specifically

commanded in Scripture is like a parent scolding a child for

every unsolicited act of devotion or affection. Rejecting

anything that stems from an imperfect past denies us the

ability to reach people with a message about Christ at one

of the two times a year when they1re most receptive.

Few people today know or care about mistletoe's pagan

history. For me, it can just as easily be a reminder of

Jesus, the true source of prosperity and harmony, the

peacemaker and healer of all. I've staked my eternity on

the assurance God will accept anything with an ungodly past

if it's remade into an instrument designed to honour Him.

Including me. And you.

- by Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, Brantford, ON

THE INNKEEPER I only did what you have done/ A thousand times or more/ When Joseph came to Bethlehem/ And knocked upon my door/ I did not turn the Christ away/ With alibi so deft./ Like you, I simply gave to Him/ Whatever I had left. B. P. Baker, submitted by C. James Pasma, Baptist Church, North Syracuse, New York.

I love you. XXX

Let's X-amine how the X-perts X-plain why X came to

symbolize a kiss? It's an X-traordinary X-ample of how an

ancient X-pression lost its X-tremely important meaning.

The link dates back to the early Christian era when a

cross mark, or "X" referred to both the cross of Calvary and

the first letter of the Greek word for Christ, "Xristos".

It was during this time that "Christ's mass" -- Christmas --

became Xmas. Instead of a worldly attempt to X-tract Christ

from Christmas, it was X-actly the opposite.

Since few people could write, a "signature X" was a

legally valid mark. When someone wanted to emphasize their

commitment to keep a contract, they would often kiss their

mark, just as people would kiss a Bible they had sworn an

oath upon (despite the Biblical ban on oaths in James 5:12).

This eventually led to the association between an X and a

kiss.

During World War Two, both the Americans and British

ordered soldiers not to put Xs on their letters. They were

afraid spies would send messages coded as kisses. Today, XXX

has a much different meaning than kiss, kiss, kiss. Symbols

and perceptions continue to change.

Most people no longer equate the Cross with either love

or solemn commitment. In fact, many don't even associate it

with Jesus. Instead, it represents a cold, institutional

Church, a set of rules, a religious system or nothing more

than a nice piece of jewelry. And we are partly to blame.

Too often, Christians emphasize allegiance to the church

and the Bible ahead of the One who gives meaning to both. We

focus on codes of conduct instead of leading people to a

personal, life-changing relationship with Jesus and the Holy

Spirit. We concentrate on helping people with problems find

a solution instead of a Saviour.

It's time to call people back to the Cross. Beginning

with our own stories, we must show people how to encounter

God in times of weakness and in worship. Our role is to

stress the love that made Calvary possible, the grace that

frees us from sin and self-condemnation, and the obedience

that comes, not from a heart that's goaded and guilt-ridden,

but grateful. So grateful that nothing will stop us from

responding to a Saviour we've truly come to know, feel and

experience.

In the love story played out across human history, the

Cross is the final kiss. The kiss of death for Satan's

treacherous designs, and the solemn symbol of a Father's

dying and undying love. Learn from Paul as you share your

faith: "I didn't use lofty words and brilliant ideas to tell

you God's message. For I decided to concentrate on Jesus

Christ and His death on the cross. I came to you in weakness

-- timid and afraid... but the Holy Spirit was powerful among

you... so you might trust the power of God instead of human

wisdom." (1 Cor. 2:1-5).

X-actly.

--by Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, Brantford, ON

What Are These Christmas Songs? Answers are below. Don't cheat.

1. Move hitherward the entire assembly of those who are loyal in their belief

2. Embellish interior passageways

3. Vertically challenged adolescent percussionist

4. Natal celebration devoid of color as a hallucinatory phenomenon for me

5. Majestic triplet referred to in the first person plural

6. Twelve o’clock on a clement night witnessed its arrival

7. Soundless nocturnal period

8. The Yuletide occurrence preceding all others

9. Precious metal musical devices

10. Omnipotent Supreme Being who elicits respite to ecstatic distinguished males

11. Caribou with vermilion oil factory appendage

12. Allow crystalline formations to descend

13. Bipedal traveling through an amazing acreage during the periods between December 21st and March 21st

14. Exclamatory remark concerning a diminutive municipality in Judea southwest of Jerusalem

Answers

1. O Come all ye faithful

2. Deck the Halls

3. Little Drummer Boy

4. I'm dreaming of a White Christmas

5. We three Kings

6. It came upon a midnight clear

7. Silent Night

8. The First Noel

9. Silver Bells

10. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

11. Rudolph the Red nose reindeer

12. Let it snow ~ Let it snow ~ Let it snow

13. Winter Wonderland

14. Oh little town of Bethlehem

Holiday Trivia

• An artificial spider and web are often included in the decorations on Ukrainian Christmas trees. A spider web found on Christmas morning is believed to bring good luck.

• “Hot cockles” was a popular game at Christmas in medieval times. It was a game in which the other players took turns striking the blindfolded player, who had to guess the name of the person delivering each blow. “Hot cockles” was still a Christmas pastime until the Victorian era.

• In 1997 a Menorah was built in Latrun, near the main Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway. It was more than 60 feet tall, weighed 17 metric tons, and took up an area of 600 square meters. A rabbi was lifted in a crane each night of the holiday to light the candles on the menorah, which was made of metal pipes.

• Before settling on the name of Tiny Tim for his character in “A Christmas Carol”, three other alliterative names were considered by Charles Dickens. They were: Little Larry, Puny Pete and Small Sam.

• Theodore Roosevelt, a staunch conservationist, banned Christmas trees in his home, even when he lived in the White House. His children, however, smuggled them into their bedrooms.

• Kwanzaa has seven basic symbols, which represent values and concepts reflective of African culture.

- Mazao: Fruits, Nuts, and Vegetables

- Mkeka: Place Mat

- Vibunzi: Ear of Corn

- Mishumaa Saba: The Seven Candles

- Kinara: The Candleholder

- Kikombe Cha Umoja: The Unity Cup

- Zawadi: Gifts

• Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer was conceived by author Robert May in 1939. Two other names he thought of before deciding on Rudolph were Reginald and Rollo.

• Electric Christmas tree lights were first used in 1895. The idea for using electric Christmas lights came from an American, Ralph E. Morris. The new lights proved safer than the traditional candles.

• On December 15, 1998, the Mayer Kaplan Jewish Community Center in Skokie, Illinois, attempted to set the inaugural world's record for largest number of dreidels to be spun at one time. At least 200 people were needed to set the record.

• When visiting Finland, Santa leaves his sleigh behind and rides on a goat named Ukko. Finnish folklore has it that Ukko is made of straw, but is strong enough to carry Santa Claus anyway.

from www.UselessKnowledge.com

Each Christmas our Church presents a concert featuring a live nativity scene. My Five year-old nephew was up in the balcony, not paying much attention. As the Wise men began marching down the center aisle toward the manger, my brother leaned over and wispered to my nephew, "Curtis, look! You're missing it! Here comes the king!" Curtis jumped up, looked over the balcony and asked, "That's Elvis?"

-- Julie Loomis

In FAMILY CIRCUS, the

little boy opens the door and looks at the first winter

snow: "God gift-wrapped the world!" A real good point could be made

about our

heavenly Father gift wrapping the world in love with the Birth of

Christ! Dr.

John Bardsley

A few years ago at this time I was preparing to leave after Christmas for a preaching mission to the Fiji Islands. In preparation, I read some accounts of missionaries who had invested their lives in the South Pacific.

One powerful story comes from a missionary to the head-hunting Sawis of Indonesia. He sat in a “manhouse” and told them how God showed Himself to all peoples in Jesus. They yawned and grew restless. However, when he told them about the betrayal of Jesus by Judas, they leaned forward and became interested. As they heard that a kiss, a sign of affection, was the means of betrayal, their eyes sparkled with amazement and respect. But their admiration was for JUDAS, not Jesus, for to these primitive cannibals, DECEIT and BETRAYAL were the highest virtues.

The missionary saw it as his mission to try to overcome generations of cultural conditioning so that these people's thinking might be reversed. He persuaded three tribes that were natural enemies to move fairly close together so that he might have access to them. While they were reluctant, they did so because the missionary provided them with tools and medicine. As tension mounted among the tribes, the hostility became so great that he called the “headmen” together and told the tribes to disperse. He announced that he would have to go downstream and work among other people who could get along better.

One morning the tribes gathered in an open place. The air was electric with tension. After a period of waiting, a warrior grabbed his nursing child from his anxious wife, ran to a former enemy and handed him the baby. The distraught mother pleaded with him not to do this. Then, abruptly, a warrior from the other side did the same thing.

Aghast, the missionary asked what was happening. He was told that the tribes were exchanging a “peace child.” As long as the children were unhurt, the tribes would live in peace. Shouts of joy broke out. People began to dance. The peace child made it possible for the tribes to live together without fear. A new era had been born.

The missionary finally had an analogy for God's love. He now told the warriors that Jesus was God's “Peace Child!” God did not want to give up His Son to hostile people, but because of His love, He sent a peace child to live among them. The Sawis now heard the story of Jesus with new interest. If Jesus was a Peace Child, it was wrong to betray Him. Judas was no longer a hero.

It was a new day for the Sawis. It was a new day for our world when Jesus was born in Bethlehem. He brought a whole new set of values. He became God's Peace Child in a darkened world. He still seeks to bring peace to our world. World peace begins in our own heart! Let us point others to the Peace Child of Bethlehem!

________

Ernie Nivens, Tranquil United Methodist

Posted by janet krohn on May 27, 1997 at 12:17:30:

When I was a young girl, a pretty neat gift to get was a

cardboard refrigerator and oven set. My father spent one

Christmas Eve and early Christmas morning hours putting just

such a set together for me. So, tired as he was, these words

came to his mind as he watched his five children enjoy

another Christmas.

'Tis the day after Christmas, the kind words are all spoken.

The toys lie around all twisted and broken.

Santa is now just an ugly old grouch

'Bout ready to crawl on the psychiatrist couch.

Mother, distraught, disheveled and weary,

Is about to dispel the "Santa Claus" theory.

The children are scarred from their many battles

Over the trains, the dolls and the baby rattles.

But the New Year arrives and we all make a vow

That next year come Christmas it'll be different somehow.

We all will shop early (we can if we would)

Providing, of course, that our credit's still good.

Soon though comes Spring and Summer does follow

And now our resolutions all seem quite hollow.

'Til next thing we know, it's December once more

And it's time again to stampede the store.

But, isn't it worth it to get that "lift"

From watching a loved one open their gift?

It is wonderful, isn't it, when someone shares

And everyone, for one day, can forget their cares.

It was the biggest night of the year in a little town called Cornwall. It was the night of the annual Christmas pageant. Since there are no nearby malls or cities to compete with, the pageant is packed out every year. It's an especially big deal for the children in town. They get to try out for the roles in the Christmas story, and everybody wants a part.

Which leads us to the problem of Harold. Harold really wanted to be in the play, too, but he was ... well, he was kind of a slow and simple kid. The directors were ambivalent, I mean, they knew Harold would be crushed if he didn't have a part, but they were afraid he might mess up the town's magic moment. Finally, they decided to cast Harold as the innkeeper - the one who turns Mary and Joseph away the night Jesus is to be born. He only had only one line: "I'm sorry, we have no room." Well, no one could imagine what that one line was going to do to everyone's Christmas.

I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A WORD WITH YOU today about "The Christmas Invitation."

The night of the pageant the church was packed, as usual. The set was in place, and in fact, it was an entire wall with scenes of Bethlehem painted on it, including the door of the inn where Harold would greet and then turn away the young Jewish travelers.

Backstage, the angels were playing frisbee with their halos, the shepherds were waiting 'till the last minute to put on their annually laundered bathrobes, and Harold was being personally coached by the nervous directors. "Now remember, Harold, when Joseph says, 'Do you have a room for the night?' you say ... you say ..." Hesitantly, Harold said, "I'm sorry. We have no room." The directors looked at each other sort of hopefully. They'd done all they could.

Well, the Christmas story unfolded according to plan - angels singing, Joseph's dream, you know, the trip to Bethlehem. Finally, Joseph and Mary arrived at the door of the Bethlehem Inn, looking appropriately tired, discussing whether the baby might come tonight. Joseph knocked on the inn door. Backstage, the directors were just out of sight, coaching Harold to open the door now. And wouldn't you know it - the door was stuck! The whole set shook; Harold tried to get that door open. When he finally did, Joseph asked his question on cue: "Do you have a room for the night?"

Harold froze. From backstage, a loud whisper: "I'm sorry. We have no room." And Harold mumbled, "I'm sorry. We have no room." And, with a little coaching, he shut the door. Well, the directors heaved a sigh of relief - prematurely. As Mary and Joseph disappeared into the night, the set suddenly started shaking again, and the door opened. Harold was back! And then, in an unrehearsed moment that folks would not soon forget, Harold went running after the young couple, shouting as loud as he could, "Wait! Wait! You can have my room!"

I think little Harold may have understood the real issue of Christmas better than anyone else there that night. How can you leave Jesus outside? You have to make room for Jesus. And that may be the issue for you this Christmas Day. What will you do with this Son of God who came to earth to find you? This One who trades a throne room for a stable, angel's praise for human mockery, this Creator who gives Himself on a cross? The Bible gives us the only appropriate response in Galatians 2:20. "The Life I now live I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me." You look at what Jesus did to pay for your sin on that cross, and you say those life-changing words - "For me."

Jesus is at your door this Christmas. Maybe He's been knocking for a long time and maybe He won't keep knocking much longer. All your life - even the events of the last few months - have been to prepare you for this crossroads moment with Jesus, your Savior.

Don't leave Him outside any longer. Open the door this Christmas Day. "Jesus, I cannot keep You out any longer. Come on in. You can have my room ... my life."

________________

Copyright © Ron Hutchcraft Ministries, Inc., PO Box 400, Harrison, AR 72602. Used by permission. Written by Ron Hutchcraft. 'Practical Answers to Real Life Issues'

*

A girl of ten years went with a group of family and friends

to see the Christmas light displays at various locations

throughout the city. At one church, they stopped and got out to

look more closely at a beautifully done nativity scene. "Isn't

that beautiful?" said the little girl's grandmother. "Look at

all the animals, Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus." "Yes,

Grandma," replied the granddaughter. "It is really nice. But

there is only one thing that bothers me. Isn't baby Jesus ever

going to grow up... he's the same size he was last year."

Who started Christmas? This morning I heard a story on the radio of a woman who was out Christmas shopping with her two children. After many hours of looking at row after row of toys and everything else imaginable, and after hours of hearing both her children asking for everything they saw on those many shelves, she finally made it to the elevator with her two kids.

She was feeling what so many of us feel during the holiday season time of the year. Overwhelming pressure to go to every party, every housewarming, taste all the holiday food and treats, getting that perfect gift for every single person on our shopping list, making sure we don't forget anyone on our card list, and the pressure of making sure we respond to everyone who sent us a card.

Finally the elevator doors opened and there was already a crowd in the elevator. She pushed her way into the car and dragged her two kids in with her and all the bags of stuff. When the doors closed she couldn't take it anymore and stated, “Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up and shot.” From the back of the car everyone heard a quiet calm voice respond, “Don't worry, we already crucified him.”

For the rest of the trip down, the elevator was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Don't forget this year to keep the One who started this whole Christmas thing in your every thought, deed, purchase, and word.

If we all did it, just think of how different this whole world would be.

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[Original illustration at this number was added to HolwickID #2063]

One of Chuck Colson’s favorite films was “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I love the film, too: Everything from Zuzu’s petals to “Clarence! Get me back to my wife and kids!”

We can find a lot of great life lessons in that film if we try to. Someone who did exactly that is journalist Bob Welch. He just wrote a book titled “Fifty-Two Little Lessons from It’s a Wonderful Life” -- one lesson for every week of the year.

For instance, Welch points out that the film has a lot to say about grace — that is, unmerited favor. We see it right at the beginning, when Mr. Gower, the druggist, slaps a young George Bailey on the ear so hard that it starts bleeding. But George forgives him; he knows Mr. Gower has just received word that his son has died.

And then there’s the scene where George and Mary are leaving on their honeymoon, and they witness the run on the bank. Old man Potter is offering fifty cents on the dollar, and many people are tempted to take him up on it. But George does his best to convince the townspeople that that they should keep their money at the Bailey Building and Loan. As Welch notes, “George suggests that one reason to do so is that the Baileys believe in grace and Potter doesn’t.”

“Here, Ed,” George says to one of his neighbors. “You remember last year when things weren’t going so well, and you couldn’t make your payments? You didn’t lose your house, did you? Do you think Potter would have let you keep it?”

Of course not. Old man Potter doesn’t do “grace.”

And then there’s the matter of that missing $8,000 which Uncle Billy loses on Christmas Eve. While it’s true George grabs Uncle Billy and shouts at him, in the end, he ultimately extends grace as well. When George goes to Mr. Potter asking for help, George takes the blame: He says HE’s the one who misplaced the money.

George’s wife, Mary Bailey, also excels at the grace business. Remember, George comes home from work on Christmas Eve, yells at his wife and kids, insults Zuzu’s teacher over the phone, and trashes the living room. Mary has a right to be furious — but instead, she forgives George, tells the children to pray for daddy, and goes out to ask the town for help replacing that $8,000.

Grace, Welch reminds us, “is the foundation of the Christian faith. Jesus’ granting us grace by forgiving our sins flies in the face of virtually every other religion, which operates on a you-get-what-you-deserve basis. But Jesus says, in essence, you don’t get what you deserve. You get what you don’t deserve.”

The willingness to live by grace: That’s part of what makes Bedford Falls such a great place to live.

What other life lessons do we find in Welch’s book? That we should stop to count our blessings. That richness is not about money, but about the people in our lives. That our actions make a difference because, as the Angel Clarence reminds George, each man’s life touches so many other lives.

________

Copyright (c) 2012 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #6420]

How stupendous that God would come to earth as a baby!

God lay a baby on the door step of the world. He was born, not in a palace, but in a cattle barn; not on a famed Appian Way, but in an obscure hamlet. A feeding trough was His cradle and beast of the field and lowly shepherds were His attendants. He was born, not of royalty, but of humble and poor parents.

Yet an angelic chorus heralded His birth. A star led wise men on a long pilgrimage to the very place where He was. . . . For the birth of that Baby was the colossal event of the ages. No army that ever marched, no battle ever fought, no other event of history begins to match that moment for its impact on the world and its importance for eternity.

-- Henry Garieply, {100 Portraits of Christ}