Jean Coleman's Blog - Posts Tagged "christmas"

I looked at the thermometer and saw that it read 102 degrees. The heat was oppressive and it wasn't even noon. I wondered how I could make it through the day. But even worse than the heat was the homesickness. Most of the time I was content to live in Australia, but as the Christmas season approached I longed to be back in America. My mind just couldn't adjust to having Christmas come in the middle of summer vacation.

I actually dreaded the thought of Christmas. Perhaps what I missed the most was the excitement of gathering together with family and friends on Christmas day for a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. It just didn't seem like Christmas day with only our own little family around the table. We really needed someone to celebrate with us, but who could it be? All our friends were away for the holidays. Surely there was someone in Melbourne who would like to join our family for Christmas.

Suddenly an idea was birthed within me. We could adopt an elderly pensioner for the day, perhaps an old man who had no family. He could be our special Christmas guest. I could sense the excitement rising up within me and it didn't take long to make a phone call to Social Services with my request. They were more than delighted to arrange for someone to spend Christmas in our home.

Christmas then took on a whole new atmosphere. We had taken our eyes off of ourselves and focused them on another. Eagerly we purchased special gifts for our Christmas visitor and even baked him a beautiful cake with fluffy white icing. Christmas had become a time to give instead of receive.

The children spent Christmas afternoon waiting for our anticipated visitor to arrive. I heard their shout, "He's here! He's here!" And what a marvelous old man he was! Sid was slightly stooped and walked with a cane. A bowler hat sat jauntily upon his white hair. We quickly seated him in our best chair and a footstool was brought so he could rest his bad leg. Tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks as he was presented with his Christmas gifts. And how Sid enjoyed the traditional American Christmas dinner that had been prepared.

"Did you know that today is my birthday?" he asked as he passed his plate for seconds. "I was born on Christmas day many years ago, but it's been a long time since I had a real birthday celebration like this."

When I heard his words, I began silently to pray. "Dear God, please let there be some birthday candles in the drawer in the kitchen."

Five minutes later I was carrying a cake ablaze with candles into the dining room. We lifted our voices and sang the familiar chorus, "Happy birthday, dear Sid, happy birthday to you."

We learned the true meaning of Christmas on that hot summer day in Australia when we opened our home and our hearts to a stranger. Did we entertain an angel unaware? Or perhaps our visitor was someone even more special who had come to spend HIS birthday with us. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me" (Matthew 26:40).

This is a true Christmas story that actually began the summer when I was seven years old. I recall the Oklahoma summer as being hot and muggy with long lazy days when the laughter of children could be heard through the open windows.

But I wasn't laughing that summer. Most of my time was spent sitting on the front steps watching all the neighborhood children riding their bicycles up and down the street. Some days their bikes would be pretend ponies and other times racing cars.

More than anything in the world, I wanted to have a bicycle and join my friends in their play. But small bicycles complete with training wheels hadn't yet been invented and I was at that awkward age. I was too big to ride my old red three-wheeled tricycle and not quite tall enough for a full-sized bicycle.

Children can be cruel and the boys and girls would make fun of me as they rode by, calling me a baby because I didn't have a bike yet. Finally I decided to take the problem directly to my father. So one evening when he came home from work, I came right out and boldly asked him for a bicycle. I explained that with a bike I could run errands for my mother and even ride the bicycle to school.

Dad pondered the situation for a few moments and then smiled down at me. "I expect that by December your legs will be long enough to reach the pedals. The bike will be your Christmas gift. What color do you want it to be?"

I could hardly believe my ears. I was going to get a bike for Christmas! I was so excited, but somehow I managed to answer, "I want it to be blue."

"Well, blue it will be," my father replied. And then he added, "And I'll tell you what, your new bike will even have a bell and a light."

The next day I could hardly contain myself as I told my friends about the beautiful new bicycle I was going to get. But again they taunted me. "We don't see any new bicycle. What makes you think that you're going to get a new bike?"

I don't have it yet," I informed them, "but I'm going to get it for Christmas. You just wait and see. It's going to be a beautiful blue bicycle. My father's going to give it to me for a Christmas present."

I didn't mind sitting on the steps watching the others ride anymore because I knew that it wouldn't be long until I would be riding with them. Through the eyes of faith I could see myself pedaling down the street on my brand new blue bike. My father had promised and he always kept his word. Let the others laugh. I knew my new bicycle was on the way! All I had to do was patiently wait.

Christmas morning, just as promised, there was my new bicycle standing beside the tree. It was even more wonderful than I had anticipated, painted a rich royal blue with a white stripe. The shiny chrome trim on the bike reflected the colored lights from the Christmas tree. I can still remember throwing my arms around my daddy. "Oh, thank you! It's exactly what I wanted! It's perfect!" And guess what? My legs were just long enough to reach the pedals.

And our Heavenly Father also keeps His promises. Sometimes when we ask, the answer doesn't come immediately, but we can always hold fast to His word with confidence. Sometimes our friends may even mock us as we wait in faith, but we have this confidence, God is faithful and His promises are true to those who will believe His word.

I'll never forget the first time I saw Katie. It was in the final moments of the Christmas musical being presented at our church. In the closing scene, the actor portraying Jesus was to descend from his throne and walk slowly to the front of the stage. Everything was moving right on schedule. As the music swelled to a crescendo, our pseudo-Jesus stretched forth his arms to the people in the audience as the choir with lifted voices sang, "Come unto Me! Come unto Me! All ye who labor, come unto Me!"

There was a powerful anointing in the church as the musical reached the carefully rehearsed climax. Several actors and actresses had been placed strategically in the audience and the script called for them to leave their seats at predetermined times and go forward in response to the invitation being issued by Jesus. The pre-set musical cues were perfectly timed to allow each person to climb the stairs up to the stage and receive a blessing from the man playing Jesus. What could possibly go wrong?

As the director, I was seated in the front row and I anxiously watched the final scene being played out before me. Everything was going just as planned. There went the first actor onto the stage to receive his blessing. As he returned to his seat, the second came forward right in time with the music—onto the stage and off of the stage. The timing was perfect and I breathed a sigh of relief.

And then to my utter amazement, an unknown woman rose from her seat. She came running down the center aisle and darted up the stairs onto the stage. Throwing herself down at Jesus' feet, she cried out, "Oh Jesus, please save me! My life is such a mess! I need You."

Although the choir seemed momentarily confused by what was happening, they continued on with the powerful song without missing a beat. The young man portraying Jesus stayed completely in character and you could almost sense the anointing come upon him. He reached down and helped the anguished woman to her feet and wrapped her in his arms, holding her briefly as she sobbed against his shoulder. Then he placed his hands upon her head and I could see his lips moving as he prayed a blessing upon her.

The anthem was rapidly drawing to a close and I really had no idea what was going to happen next. But I had no need to worry because "Jesus" had everything under control. With the woman's hand in his, he gently assisted her down the stairs from the stage and they walked together up the aisle to the back of the church. I'm not sure that those in the audience even realized what was taking place right before their eyes.

As the congregation rose to its feet giving the choir a standing ovation, I quickly left the sanctuary, eager to meet our unexpected addition to the Christmas musical. Katie was there in the lobby with tears still streaming down her face. The miracle of Christmas became a reality as she prayed with me and received Jesus as her Savior. Christ the Lord was born that day in her heart. The Lord had given our church a wonderful Christmas gift—a precious soul added to the kingdom of God—a woman named Katie.

Debbie’s eyes were aglow with delight as she caught her first glimpse of the Christmas tree in the early morning light. We had determined that this year was going to be the biggest and best Christmas ever and we had spared no expense to purchase a multitude of toys designed to thrill the heart of our daughter.

Our two year old must have thought she was in a toy store as she viewed the display of merchandise awaiting her. Debbie just stood there trying to take it all in—the rocking horse, the puzzles, the child-size kitchen set, the balls and dolls. She seemed to be completely overwhelmed by the vast array spread out before her.

Then she noticed her Christmas stocking hanging from the mantel. Eagerly she ran over, took it down, and carefully began to remove the contents of the stocking one item at a time. She examined each piece of candy and every little toy. We tried to hurry her along, anxious for her to pay attention to the wonderful, expensive toys under the tree.

Finally the stocking appeared to be empty. But wait—what’s this? Reaching way down deep into the toe, Debbie had discovered a tiny plastic baby doll with a wee bed and blanket, and a microscopic baby bottle. We had purchased the little doll at the dime store on Christmas Eve for a quarter. It was one of those last minute impulse things, but Debbie was captivated by it. She wouldn’t put the little doll down.

We urged her to come and see all the other toys, but she wouldn’t budge. All she wanted was the tiny baby with its little bottle and bed. Debbie continued to sit on the floor taking the doll in and out of its bed, covering it with the tiny blanket. Time passed.

After a while, we began to get impatient. Hundreds of dollars of the finest toys available sat untouched under the tree, and all Debbie wanted was the tiny baby with its little bottle and bed. We tried to draw her attention to the toy kitchen with its many working parts, but to no avail. The tiny baby had stolen Debbie’s heart. She had eyes for nothing else.

Oh that the Babe of Bethlehem might steal our hearts this Christmas. In the midst of all the commercialism, bright lights and tinsel, let us turn our eyes upon Jesus. There are so many things that seek to draw our affection away from the Holy Child in the manger. We often have to look past Santa Claus, Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman and decorated trees to find the real reason for Christmas.

The temptation is there to look at the big, the bright, the beautiful, the exciting. Look here! See the newest, the greatest! See the most expensive, the most advanced. Look here! Leave the Baby! Look what’s over here!

But let us never forget that the greatest Christmas gift ever given to men came wrapped in human flesh in the form of a tiny baby. May God grant us child-like faith to turn away from everything else that the world has to offer to embrace His precious gift—a baby named Jesus.


From the book
"Following in His Footsteps"
by Jean Coleman