THE WONDER OF CHRISTMAS

I was listening to some people talking about Christmas on the radio. They were bemoaning the fact that they had lost some of the wonder of Christmas as they grew up and no longer believed in Santa Claus. I recognize the danger, of losing the wonder of Christmas but not over Father Christmas over Jesus Christ. I have preached at Christmas for decades, sung the songs, read the readings, as I suspect you have too.

But I have a little personal Christmas tradition that helps me keep the wonder of Christmas in my head and heart.

In the first week of December, I grab a coffee and read John chapter one and then I get a book of Advent devotions I have and read a couple of paragraphs from Max Lucado. Then I just sit in wonder for a few moments and reflect on the enormity of what God was doing in and through Jesus. I thought I would share those words from Max Lucado it so you could share the wonder too.


I know we are all busy right now but if we are too busy to take some time to just be in awe of what God has done for us through Christmas, we are just too busy. So make some space this week, sit down and savour these words.

“Untethered by time, God sees us all. From the backwoods of Virginia to the business district of London, from the Vikings to the astronauts, from the cave dwellers to the kings, from the hut dwellers, to the finger pointers to the rock stackers, he sees us, vagabonds all, he saw us before we were born

And he loves what he sees. Flooded by emotion. Overcome with pride, the Starmaker turns to us one by one and says, “You are my child. I love you dearly. I’m aware some day you’ll turn from me and walk away. But I want you to know I have already provided a way back.

And to prove it he did something extraordinary.

Stepping from the throne, [God] removed his robe of light and wrapped himself in skin: pigmented, human skin. The light of the universe entered a dark, wet womb. He whom angels worship was birthed into the cold night, and then slept on cow’s hay..

Mary didn’t know whether to give him milk or give him praise, but she gave him both since he was, as near as she could figure, hungry and holy.

Joseph didn’t know whether to call him Junior or Father. But in the end he called him Jesus since that is what the Angel had said and since he didn’t have the faintest idea what to name a God he could cradle in his arms.

Don’t you think their heads tilted and their minds wondered, ‘What in the world are you doing, God?’ Or, better phrased, ‘God, what are you doing in the world?

Can anything make me stop loving you?” God asks. “Watch me speak your language, sleep on your earth, and feel your hurts. Behold the Maker of sight and sound as he sneezes, coughs, and blows his nose. You wonder if I understand how you feel? Look into the dancing eyes of the kid in Nazareth; that’s God walking to school. Ponder the toddler at Mary’s table; that’s God spilling his milk.

You wonder how long my love will last? Find your answer on a splintered cross, on a craggy hill. That’s me you see up there, your Maker, your God, nail-stabbed and bleeding. Covered in spit and sin-soaked. That’s your sin I’m feeling. That’s your death I’m dying. That’s your resurrection I’m living. That’s how much I love you.”

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