“The Word of the Father, by Whom all time was created, was made flesh and was born in time for us.

He, without whose divine permission no day completes its course, wished to have one day set aside for His human birth.

In the bosom of His Father, He existed before all the cycles of ages; born of an earthly mother, He entered upon the course of the years on this day.

The Maker of man became Man that He, Ruler of the stars, might be nourished at His mother’s breast;

that He, the Bread, might hunger;

that He, the Fountain, might thirst;

that He, the Light, might sleep;

that He, the Way, might be wearied by the journey;

that He, the Truth, might be accused by false witnesses;

that He, the Judge of the living and the dead, might be brought to trial by a mortal judge;

that He, Justice, might be condemned by the unjust;

that He, Discipline, might be scourged with whips;

that He, the Foundation, might be suspended upon a cross;

that Courage might be weakened;

that Healer might be wounded;

that Life might die.

To endure these and similar indignities for us, to free us, unworthy creatures, He who existed as the Son of God before all ages, without a beginning, deigned to become the Son of Man in these recent years.

He did this although He who submitted to such great evils for our sake had done no evil and although we, who were the recipients of so much good at His hands, had done nothing to merit these benefits.

Begotten by the Father, He was not made by the Father.

He was made Man in the mother whom He Himself had made, so that He might exist here for a while, sprung from her who could never and nowhere have existed except through His power (Augustine of Hippo, 354-430)”

I think Leslie Leyland Fields perfectly captured the essence of Christmas in this little poem. I can’t imagine any way I could improve it. After all, the same God who chose to become incarnate in the person of Jesus in a little nowhere town of Bethlehem is the same God who chooses nobodies to be His messengers, His ambassadors — His sons and His daughters. He who chose a manger for His bed chooses our hearts to be His dwelling place.

I love my Advent/Christmas traditions. They’re what I look forward to throughout the year as much as anything else. For instance, tonight I visited Opryland Hotel with all the decorations and lights everywhere.

I’m a creature of habit, so I don’t feel like Christmas is complete without getting in my traditions, like egg nog or lasagna (on Christmas Eve). I have places I feel like I need to visit to really get into the spirit of the festive season, like Opryland Hotel and Cheekwood, where the decorations are sure to help purge any Scrooge-ness in me.

For me, traditions are a way of making memories while at the same time honoring the past and those loved ones who are no longer here. Hopefully, it’s not some kind of rote activity but something meaningful and memorable. I think of how God’s people had feasts throughout the year as a way of commemorating what God had done for them in the past. They were — just as we are now — a forgetful people, so they needed reminders of God’s faithfulness.

If you have a family, I encourage you to make your own traditions with just you and your family. They don’t have to be super elaborate and expensive, but they need to be something your kids will remember when they’ve grown up and can possibly carry on with their children one day.

It can be a place you visit or a meal you share or an activity. I always like the idea of reading the Christmas story from Luke 2 as a way of reinforcing what the season is really all about.

The point is that you need physical, tangible memories — not just memories that show up on social media. In the end, what will matter won’t be how much of an influencer you were on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or Tiktok, but how much of a real difference you made with those people in your life.

I haven’t officially asked Peanut what she wants for Christmas, but I have a pretty good idea what she’d say — just leave me alone and let me nap in peace. And bring me lots and lots of tuna. But mostly let me sleep. Honestly, that doesn’t sound like a bad present.

“There are many who are enkindled with dreamy devotion, and when they hear of the poverty of Christ, they are almost angry with the citizens of Bethlehem. They denounce their blindness and ingratitude, and think, if they had been there, they would have shown the Lord and his mother a more kindly service and would not have permitted them to be treated so miserably. But they do not look by their side to see how many of their fellow humans need their help, and which they ignore in their misery. Who is there upon earth that has no poor, miserable, sick, erring ones around him? Why does he not exercise his love to those? Why does he not do to them as Christ has done to him?” (Martin Luther)

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’

Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters,you were doing it to me!’

Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons.For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’

Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’

And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me’” (Matthew 25:34-45, NLT).

“Poor mothers, with your hoard 
Of endless love and countless pain–
Remember all her grief, her gain, 
The Mother of the Lord. 

Mourners, half blind with woe, 
Look up! One standeth in this place, 
And by the pity of His face 
The Man of Sorrows know. 

Wanderers in far countrie, 
O think of Him, who came, forgot, 
To His own, and they received Him not– 
Jesus of Galilee. 

O all ye who have trod 
The wine-press of affliction, lay 
Your hearts before His heart this day– 
Behold the Christ of God!” (Dinah Maria Mulock Craik)

I love that when God took on flesh, He didn’t come with pomp and circumstance into a royal palace, but humble and lowly to a manger. Interestingly, I learned recently that when one of the lambs destined for the temple sacrifices was born, they wrapped it in swaddling cloths and laid it in a manger to keep it unblemished. So Jesus, who was born to be the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, was wrapped in the same way in swaddling cloths and laid in the same kind of manger. He was the Man of Sorrows who was (and is) acquainted with all our griefs and is able to sympathize with us. He is truly Emmanuel, God with us.

Source: from “A Hymn for Christmas Morning” in Thirty Years: Being Poems New and Old

Christmas is a joyous season for most of us, but not for all. Many this year are hurting because there will be an empty chair at the table this year and a loved one’s familiar laugh will be absent. For those who have passed, they are spending their first Christmas in heaven, but for those who are left behind, there’s an ache and a void that just about nothing can fill.

I ran across a poem I posted a few years ago written by a mother who lost her daughter and needed an outlet for her grief. The woman who wrote it had a 13 year old daughter with severe cerebral palsy who had a seizure on Christmas Day in 1997 and was in a coma for 5 days before she died. The poem was written during those 5 days:

I see the countless Christmas trees
Around the world below,
With tiny lights like heaven’s stars
Reflecting in the snow.

The sight is so spectacular
Please wipe away that tear
For I’m spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs
That people hold so dear
But earthly music can’t compare
With the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you
The joy their voices bring
For it’s beyond description
To hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me,
Trust God and have no fear
For I’m spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I can’t tell you of the splendor
Or the peace here in this place.
Can you imagine Christmas
With our Savior, face to face?

May God uplift your spirit
As I tell Him of your love
Then pray for one another
As you lift your eyes above.

So let your hearts be joyful
And let your spirits sing
For I’m spending Christmas in Heaven
And I’m walking with the king!

So let your hearts be joyful
And let your spirits sing
For I’m spending Christmas in Heaven
And I’m walking with the king!

In case any of you were wondering what I want for Christmas, this is it. I’ll take any form of currency, credit card, and gold doubloons. I’ll straight up take a beach house, too. I can take or leave the caretaker, since I will probably be moving there and living there as soon as I possibly can.

This also falls under the “Things I Know are Wishful Thinking, but I Can Still Dream” category. I can fantasize about owning a home where I can walk straight out to the beach whenever I feel like it. Also, in my fantasy scenario, there are no such things as tropical storms or hurricanes.

Oh, I almost forgot one thing. I’d like a vintage Jeep Wrangler to get me to my new beach house and for me tool around in in my shades and unlimited Hawaiian shirts. Then my life would be complete.

Wouldn’t it be great if instead of making a big fuss over making sure people say, “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays,” we actually lived out the meaning of Christmas? What if we actually lived like we had the risen Christ inside of us and we choose Christlikeness over preachy moralism?

I do think that when you’re steeped in the life of Christ, it can’t help but come out of you. When you follow Jesus daily just as the disciples did, you will inevitably walk and talk like Jesus did. When you serve the least of these, you will serve those Jesus served and you will ultimately serve Jesus Himself.

Jesus came to seek and to save the lost. He has called us to do the same. Except we won’t actually save anyone. That’s God’s job. What we can do is show them Jesus by how we speak and how we act. When we have come to the point when we live out Jesus incarnate, then people will want what we have — namely, Jesus.

You know the joke, right? What has 15 actors, 4 settings, 2 writers, and 1 plot? That’s right, it’s 634 Hallmark movies. I think in all of them there’s usually a big-city girl who moves back to her small town home and falls in love with the local guy who always wears sweaters. Oh, and her name is Holly or Ivy or something Christmasy.

Am I knocking Hallmark Christmas movies? Absolutely not. I may not watch them, but there’s an audience out there that wants to see something warm and light with a predictably happy ending. After all, there’s too much sadness in the real world. Sometimes, you just need an escape into a place where you know everyone will live happily ever after.

So you do you. You watch all 634 Hallmark Christmas movies, if that’s what makes your little heart happy.