I knew the holiday season would prove difficult for my mother. She had moved into an assisted living facility in the midst of the COVID plague and could only receive visitors through a plexiglass wall. There would be no family Christmas gathering for her.
My grandmother loved to give everyone in the family Christmas gifts. As much as possible she made them by hand. She might make house shoes, hot pan holders, or doilies. She might even go so far as to buy a pair of socks for each of the guys.
Travel, travel, travel, how many times have I complained about having to travel during the holidays? We’d pile the kids, luggage, and presents into the car and off we’d go. My bad attitude about doing it every single year probably affected everyone involved negatively.
The long-awaited day finally arrived. The Magi beheld the Christ-child. They bowed. They worshiped. They presented their gifts.
We continue our look at the Magi’s journey to worship the newborn king. “Worship” (derived from the Old English word “weorth”) means to attribute worth to something. The Magi were on a journey to attribute worth to Jesus. Would you say that is your life pursuit—to attribute worth to Jesus?
The Magi set out on a journey to worship the newborn king. This journey was no easy task. Some say they traveled over 700 miles. Tradition tells us they traveled on camels, but any means of travel in that day for that distance would have been extremely difficult.
The Magi saw the star and believed a king was born. Their belief was life changing. They left behind the familiar and began a journey to find and worship this king. Belief in Jesus is always life changing! That which is familiar pales in light of seeking and worshiping Jesus Christ. The Magi teach us about worship, but first, let’s look at what they teach us about life-changing belief in Jesus.
Tonight a rare event is happening. Just after sunset on the southwestern horizon you can witness the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn. Though these planets will be millions of miles apart, they will appear to be almost touching. An alignment of these planets occurs approximately every 20 years. However, this conjunction is exceptional because of how close Jupiter and Saturn will appear. An alignment of this greatness hasn’t occurred since March 4,1226. Their closeness will create a radiant point of light that is being called the Christmas Star or Star of Bethlehem.
There is one gift left under the tree.
Can you see it there in the back, behind the tissue and the gold wrapping paper?
I saved it for last because it is just for you-- from me.
The other day our youngest granddaughter and I were visiting about her upcoming birthday party. I asked her who would be at her party and she named several children from her kindergarten class, none of whom I knew. To make conversation, I asked her to tell me about them. A couple of half-hearted answers later, she said, “Don’t tell anybody, but I like the presents more than people.” Words spoken with a six year-old’s honesty, but a sentiment we can all relate to. Who doesn’t like presents?
I don’t know about you, but my childhood Christmases weren’t all teddy bears and ballet slippers. It was also the season when practical needs came wrapped in holiday paper. One item I could pretty much count on to make an annual appearance under the tree was a new scarf.
Do you remember two-part presents? When it was your turn to select a gift to open, an adult would say something like, “You can open that, but if you do, you need to open this package, too. If they aren’t opened together, they won’t make much sense.”
For a child, Christmas is a wondrous time--with most of the wonders wrapped and waiting under the Christmas tree.
As if it were yesterday, I remember those last days before Christmas from my childhood. The tree, decorated and sparkling with lights, stood in its traditional corner. Underneath were gifts in all shapes and sizes wrapped and ready to be opened. I knew some of them would be practical; but others would delightful surprises. I would make frequent detours past the living room to catch a glimpse of that scene just to assure myself that it was all real.
“You know, it’s all about love.” A simple statement uttered by a simple man, my dad, as he lay languishing on his deathbed. After all his years of working, serving and living, he had discovered the importance of life.
After the flood, God commanded Noah and his sons to be fruitful and multiply; spread out over the earth and multiply on it (Genesis 9:7). In Genesis 10, the genealogy of Noah and his sons confirms they were successful in the job of multiplying.
A torrential flood swept through my hometown when I was a teenager. My grandparents lived in a house that backed up to a creek. As the deluge of rain fell, the creek quickly filled and overran its banks. My grandparents’ anxiety rose in proportion to the rising water in the house. They climbed on furniture higher and higher, fearing the worst. A tractor appeared at their door. They were rescued by climbing in the front-end loader. My grandparents were safe from the flood but remained haunted by their experience the rest of their lives. They anxiously monitored the weather and the level of the creek each time it rained.
The story of Noah and the ark is well-known. Even after digging deeper into this story, the first picture that comes to my mind is one from a children’s book, portraying cute animals and smiling people. But what was the condition of the earth during Noah’s time?
My dog and I had just begun our walk when I observed my neighbor high on a ladder. He was trimming one of the large trees in his yard, as he often did. His landscaping was one of the best manicured in the neighborhood. I’m not sure what prompted me to speak that day--maybe his height on the ladder or his far reach of the chainsaw.
All summer long, my backyard rose bush produces hundreds of pink roses. I notice that it blooms and then most of the roses die about the same time. With my garden shears, I cut away the spent blooms. I imagine it sighing and saying, Thank you. Now I have room to grow and bloom all over again.
Trials are hard. They’re messy. They’re down right painful. Do you feel blessed when you experience them?
For eight years, I drove by the same field. There were weeds growing, and the grass looked unhealthy and sparse. One day, as I drove by, I noticed a tractor driving over the grass with sharp circular blades cutting through the hard, cracked, dry ground turning the soil. How painful that must be for the ground, I thought.
