December 1: With the passing of years, Henry’s life had changed. His children were grown. The neighborhood was different. He was unhappy. He asked his minister if he was unhappy for some sin he’d committed. “Yes,” the wise pastor replied. “The sin of ignorance. One of your neighbors is the Messiah in disguise, and you have not seen him.” With time, Henry saw things in people he’d never seen. When others spoke he listened. After all, he might be listening to the Messiah. The bounce returned to his step. His eyes took on a friendly sparkle. He said, “All I know is that things changed when I started looking for God.” Now, that’s curious. The old man saw Jesus because he didn’t know what he looked like. The people in Jesus’ day missed him because they thought they did. How are things looking in your neighborhood?
December 2: In the mystery of Christmas, we find its majesty. The mystery of how God became flesh, why he chose to come and how much he must love his people. Christmas is best pondered, not with logic, but imagination. The first Christmas was messy. Messy with crowded inns, traveling families, and barnyard animals sniffing at baby Jesus. Messy with questions. How did Mary become pregnant? What is Joseph supposed to tell his friends? Why is Herod hell-bent on killing babies? The first Christmas was messy. No midwife for Mary, no bed for Jesus, no explanation to give the scruffy shepherds. Is this one messy for you? Too many relatives? Divorce? Pink slip? Christmas can be messy. But just as with Bethlehem, good came out of the mess. May good come out of yours.
December 3: Oh, the things we do to give gifts to those we love. But we would do it all again. The fact is, we do it all again. Every Christmas, every birthday, and every so often we find ourselves in foreign territory. Grownups are in toy stores, wives are in the hunting department, husbands are in the purse department. And we do the most unusual things. We assemble bicycles at midnight. We hide the new tires with mag wheels under the stairs. One fellow I heard about rented a movie theater so he and his wife could see their wedding pictures on their anniversary. And we’d do it all again. Having pressed the grapes of service, we drink life’s sweetest wine—the wine of giving. We are at our best when we are giving. In fact, we are most like God when we are giving.
December 4: “We have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him” (Matthew 2:2). You know, people see signs of God every day. Sunsets that steal the breath. Newborns that bring tears. But do all who see the signs draw near to God? No. The wise men, however, understood the purpose of the sign, and they followed it to Jerusalem, where they heard about the scripture. The prophecy told them where to find Christ. It is interesting to note that the star reappeared after they learned about the prophecy. The star “came and stood shining right over the place where the Child was” (Matthew 2:9). It is as if the sign and Word worked together to bring the wise men to Jesus. The ultimate aim of all God’s messages, both miraculous and written, is to shed the light of heaven on Jesus.
December 5: After worshipping Christ the child, the wise men “departed for their own country in another way” (Matthew 2:12). Matthew uses the word way in other places to suggest a direction of life. He may be telling us that the wise men went home as different men. Called by a sign. Instructed by Scripture. And directed home by God. It’s as if all the forces of heaven cooperated to guide the wise men. God uses every possible means to communicate with you. The wonders of nature call to you. The promises and the prophecies of Scripture speak to you. God wants to help you find your way home. So when God sends signs, be faithful. Let them lead you to Scripture. As Scripture directs, be humble. Let it lead you to worship. And as you worship the Son, be grateful, because he will lead you home.
December 8: God did what we wouldn’t dare dream. He did what we couldn’t imagine. He became a man so we could trust him. He became a sacrifice so we could know him. And he defeated death so we could follow him. It defies logic. It’s a diving insanity. Yet, it is the very impossibility of it all that makes it possible. For only God could create a plan this mad. Only a Creator beyond the fence of logic could offer such a gift of love. What man cannot do, God does. So, when it comes to goodies and candy, cherub cheeks and red noses, go to the North Pole. But when it comes to eternity, forgiveness, purpose, and truth, go to the manger. Kneel with the shepherds. Worship the God who dared to do what man dared not to dream.
December 9: Jesus’ earthly father is a small-town carpenter who lives in Nazareth. Why Joseph? A major part of the answer lies in his reputation, and he gives it up for Jesus. Nazareth viewed Joseph as we might view an elder, deacon, or Bible class teacher. Now what? His fiancée is blemished, tainted; he is righteous, godly. The law says stone her. Love says forgive her. And Joseph is caught in the middle. Then comes the angel’s announcement, “She carries the Son of God in her womb.” But who would believe it? Joseph makes his decision. “Joseph…took to him his wife, and did not know her until she had brought forth her firstborn Son” (Matthew 1:24-25). He swapped his Torah studies for a pregnant fiancée and an illegitimate son and made the big decision of discipleship. He placed God’s plan ahead of his own.
December 10: You’ll find knotholes and snapshots and “I wonders” in every chapter of the Bible about every person. But nothing stirs so many questions as does the birth of Jesus Christ. Characters appear and disappear before we can ask them anything. I’ve got some questions. I’ve got questions for Joseph. Did you and Jesus arm wrestle? Did he ever let you win? Did you ever look up from your prayers and see Jesus listening? What ever happened to the wise men? What ever happened to you? We don’t know. We don’t know what happened to Joseph. With the exception of a short scene with twelve-year-old Jesus in Jerusalem, he never reappears. The rest of his life is left to speculation, and we are left with our questions. But of all my questions, my first would be about Bethlehem. What was Joseph thinking while Jesus was being born?
December 11: The noise and the bustle began earlier than usual in the village. The owner of the inn had awakened earlier than most in the town. After all, the inn was full; all the beds were taken. One’s imagination is kindled thinking about the conversation of the innkeeper and his family at the breakfast table. Did anyone mention the arrival of the young couple the night before? Did anyone comment on the pregnancy of the girl on the donkey? There was nothing that novel about them. They were, quite possibly, one of several families turned away that night. No, it was doubtful that anyone mentioned the couple’s arrival. They were too busy. The morning’s chores had to be done. There was too much to do to imagine that the impossible had occurred. God had entered the world as a baby.
December 12 : Joseph. The quiet father of Jesus. Rather than make a name for himself, he made a home for Christ. And because he did, a great reward came his way. “He called his name Jesus” (Matthew 1:25). Queue up the millions who have spoken the name of Jesus, and look at the person selected to stand at the front of the line: Joseph. Of all the saints, sinners, prodigals, and preachers who have spoken the name, Joseph—a blue-collar, small-town construction worker—said it first. He cradled the wrinkle-faced prince of heaven, and with an audience of angels and pigs, whispered, “Jesus…you’ll be called Jesus.” Seems right, don’t you think? Joseph gave up his name, so Jesus let Joseph say his. God hunts for Josephs through whom he can deliver Christ into the world.
December 15: “There has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). The Greek word used in this verse is Kyrios. It signifies one who rightfully holds a position of authority. Jesus was born with this title. He has a lawful right to rule over every sphere, star, galaxy, and gulf. He is the Lord of legislators, liberators, light bearers, and laborers. He bears the signet of the highest office and wears the insignia of “Lord of both the dead and the living” (Romans 14:9). Congress doesn’t run the world. Cancer doesn’t control your destiny. Death doesn’t have the last word. The faceless hand of fate isn’t directing history. The Lord Jesus is. You have a Lord to lead you.
December 16: Spiritual beings populate the stories of Scripture. Angels singing. Demons infecting. Heavenly hosts fighting. Ignore the armies of God and you ignore the heart of Scripture. Ever since the snake tempted Eve in Eden, we’ve known there is more to this world than meets the eye. We know less than we desire about these beings. Their strategies and plans we can only imagine. If Satan could preempt Christ in the cradle, there’d be no Christ on the cross. Don’t you think he tried? The conflict was, no doubt, far grander and more dramatic than anything we can fictionalize. But while we can only imagine if such a war occurred, we can be sure of this: we know who won. Because we know he came.
December 17: I magine with me this conversation between God and Satan: “Immanuel? God with us?” Satan spoke in a tone of disbelief. “The plan is bizarre. You don’t know what it is like on Earth! It’s evil.” “It’s mine,” proclaimed the King. “And I will reclaim what is mine. I will become flesh.” Satan stood speechless. And God spoke, “I love my children. Love does not take away the beloved’s freedom, but love does take away fear. And Immanuel will leave behind a tribe of fearless children. They will not fear you; they will not fear your hell. I will take away all sin. I will take away death. And without sin and death you will have no power.” Around and around in a circle, Satan paced, finally stopping to ask, “Why would you do this?” The Father’s voice was deep and soft. “Because I love them.”
December 18: “So this is he,” thought Gabriel. “This is God’s gifts. A Savior. He shall save the people from their sins.” Gabriel’s heart was full. He turned to Mary as she cradled her child, and he spoke. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t hear him. “Do you know who you hold, Mary? You secure the author of grace. He who is ageless is now moments old. He who strides upon the stars now has legs too weak to walk. The hands that held the oceans are now an infant’s fist. To him who has never asked a question, you will teach the name of the wind. The source of language will learn words from you. He who has never stumbled, you will carry. He who has never hungered, you will feed. The King of creation is in your arms.”
December 19: The babe of Bethlehem. Immanuel. Remember the promise of the angel? “’Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,’ which is translated, ‘God with us’” (Matthew 1:23). Immanuel. The name appears in the same Hebrew form as it did two thousand years ago. “Immanu” means “with us.” “El” refers to Elohim, or God. Not an “above us God” or a “somewhere in the neighborhood God.” He came as the “with us God.” God with us. Not “God with the rich” or “with the religious.” But God with us . All of us. Russians, Germans, Buddhists, Mormons, truck drivers and taxi drivers, librarians. God with us. Prophets weren’t enough. Apostles wouldn’t do. Angels won’t suffice. God sent more than miracles and messages. He sent himself; he sent his Son.
December 22: Mary is wide awake. The pain has been eclipsed by wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a smelly stable. She can’t take her eyes off of him. Somehow Mary knows she is holding God. She remembers the words of the angel. “His kingdom will never end” (Luke 1:33.) He looks like anything but a king. His face is prunish and red. His cry, though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of a baby. He is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being. Majesty in the midst of the mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a stable, through the womb of a teenager, and in the presence of a carpenter.
December 23: I love Christmas. Let the sleigh bells ring. Let the carolers sing. The more Santas the merrier. The more trees the better. I love Christmas. The tinsel and the clatter and waking up “to see what was the matter.” Bing and his tunes. Macy’s balloons. Mistletoe kisses, Santa Claus wishes, and favorite dishes. Holiday snows, warm winter clothes, and Rudolph’s red nose. I love Christmas! I love it because somewhere someone will ask the Christmas questions: What’s the big deal about the baby in the manger? Who was he? And what does his birth have to do with me? The questioner may be a child looking at a front-yard creche. He may be a soldier stationed far from home. She may be a young mom who, for the first time, holds a child on Christmas Eve. The Christmas season prompts questions. And may you find answers to yours.
December 24: My dad, a man of few words, told my brother and me, “Boys, Christmas is about Christ.” I thought about what he said. I began asking the Christmas questions; and, in one way or another, I’ve been asking them ever since. And I love the answers I found. Like this one: God knows what it is like to be human. When I talk to him about deadlines or long lines or tough times, he understands. He’s been there. He’s been here . Because of Bethlehem, I have a friend in heaven. And because of Bethlehem, I have a Savior in heaven. Christmas begins what Easter celebrates. The child in the cradle became the King on the cross. And because he did, there are no marks on my record. Just grace. His offer has no fine print. Christmas is about our precious Christ.