A Parable for Christmas

A Parable for Christmas - author unknown

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve.  He hadn’t been anywhere on Christmas Eve in years, since his wife had passed away.  It and Christmas Day were just like any day to him.  He didn’t hate Christmas, he just couldn’t find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.                

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. “Thank you, but I don’t mean to intrude,” said the stranger “If you’re busy, I’ll just go.” “Not without something hot in your belly.” George said.  He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. “It ain’t fancy, but it’s hot and tasty.  Stew … made it myself.  When you’re done, there’s coffee and it’s fresh.”                     

Just at that moment he heard the “ding” of the driveway bell.  “Excuse me, be right back,” George said. There in the driveway was an old ’53 Chevy.  Steam was rolling out of the front.  The driver was panicked. “Mister can you help me!” said the driver, with a deep accent.  “My car quit and my wife is having baby any minute.”                     

George opened the hood.  It was bad.  The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead.  “You ain’t going anywhere in this thing.  Wait here.” George said as he turned away.                     

“But Mister, please help …”  The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside.  He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside.  He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting.  “Here, take my truck,” he said.  “She ain’t the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good.”                     

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night.  He turned and walked back inside the office.  “Glad I gave ‘em the truck, their tires were shot too. That ‘ol truck has brand new . . .”  George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man was gone. The thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it.  Well, at least he got something hot in his belly, George thought.                     

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start.  It cranked slowly, but it started.  He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been.  He thought he would tinker with it for something to do.  Christmas Eve meant no customers.  He discovered that the block hadn’t cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator.  “Well, shoot, I can fix this,” he said to himself.  So he put a new hose on.                   

Those tires ain’t gonna get ‘em through the winter either.  He took the snow treads off of his wife’s old Lincoln.  They were like new and he wasn’t going to drive the car anyway.                     

As he was working, he heard shots being fired.  He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground.  Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, “Please help me.”                     

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic.  He knew the wound needed attention.   Pressure to stop the bleeding, he thought.  The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels.  He used those and duct tape to bind the wound.  “Hey, they say duct tape can fix anything,” he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.                     

Something for pain, George thought.  All he had were the pills he used for his back.  These ought to work.  He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills.  ”You hang in there, I’m going to get you an ambulance.”                     

The phone was dead. “Maybe I can get one of your buddies on your car radio.” He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.                    

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. “Thanks,” said the officer. “You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area.”                     

George sat down beside him, “I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I wasn’t going to leave you.”  George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding.  ”Looks worse than what it is.  Bullet went all the way through.  Good thing it missed the important stuff though.  I think with time you’re gonna be right as rain.”                     

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. “How do you take it?” he asked.   ”None for me,” said the officer. “Oh, your gonna wanna drink this.  Best in the city.  Too bad I ain’t got no donuts.”  The officer laughed and winced at the same time.                     

The front door of the office flew open and in burst a young man with a gun.  “Give me all your cash! Do it now!” the young man yelled.  His hand was shaking and George thought he looked like he’d never done anything like this before.                     

“That’s the guy that shot me!” exclaimed the officer.                     

“Son, why are you doing this?” asked George, “You need to put that cannon away.  Somebody else might get hurt.”                    

 The young man was confused. “Shut up old man, or I’ll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!”               

The cop started to reach for his gun. “Wait,” George said to the cop.                     

He turned his attention to the young man. “Son, it’s Christmas Eve.  If you need money, well then, here.  It ain’t much but it’s all I got. Now put that pee shooter away. ”                     

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry.  “I’m not very good at this, am I.  All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son,” he went on. “I’ve lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week .”                     

George handed the gun to the cop. “Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can.”                     

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop.  ”Sometimes we do stupid things.” George handed the young man a cup of coffee. “Bein’ stupid is one of the things that makes us human.  Comin’ in here with a gun ain’t the answer.  Now sit there and get warm and we’ll sort this thing out.”                     

The young man had stopped crying. With deep regret on his face, he looked over at the cop. “I’m so sorry I shot you. The gun just went off.  I’m sorry.”                     

“Shut up and drink your coffee.” the cop said.                     

Sirens could be heard approaching, and then the sound of a car skidding to a halt out front. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. “Chuck! You ok?” one of the cops asked the wounded officer.                     

“Not bad for a guy who took a bullet.  Glad you figured out I needed help.”                     

“When you didn’t respond to a location check, Dispatch sent us. Who did this?” the other cop asked as he approached, looking at the young man with interest.                     

Chuck answered him, “I don’t know. The guy ran off into the dark.  Just dropped his gun and ran.”                

George and the young man looked puzzled at each other.                     

“That guy work here?” the wounded cop asked George, as he looked him directly in the eye.  George understood.  “Yep,” George said, “just hired him this morning.  Boy lost his job.”                     

The EMS that had been called arrived and the paramedics loaded Chuck onto a stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, “Why?”                     

Chuck just said, “Merry Christmas boy … and you too, George, and thanks for everything .”                     

After the others had left, George said to the boy, “Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems.”                  

Then he went into the back room and came out with a box.  He pulled a ring box out of it.  ”Here you go, something for the little woman.  I don’t think Martha would mind.  She said it would come in handy some day.”                     

The young man looked inside to see a ring. “I can’t take this,” said the young man. “It means something to you.”                  

“And now it means something to you,” replied George. “I got my memories. That’s all I need.”                 

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell.  ”Here’s something for your little guy too.”                     

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.                     

“And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too,” George said, “Now get home to your family.”                    

 The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. “I’ll be here in the morning to work, if that job offer is for real.”                     

“Nope. I’m closed Christmas day,” George said. “See ya the day after.”                     

As the door closed behind the boy, George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. “Where’d you come from? I thought you left?”                     

“I have been here. I have always been here,” said the stranger. “You say you don’t celebrate Christmas. Why?”                     

“Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn’t see what all the bother was.  Puttin’ up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin’ cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn’t the same by myself and besides I was gettin’ a little chubby.”                     

The stranger put his hand on George’s shoulder. “But you do celebrate the holiday, George.                   

“You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry.                   

“The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.                   

“The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists.                   

“The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and will be like a son to you for the rest of your life. 

“That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as well as any man.”                     

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said.  “And you know all this, how?” asked the old man.                     

“Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again.”                     

The stranger moved toward the door. “If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned.”                     

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.                     

“You see, George … it’s My birthday. Merry Christmas.”                     

George fell to his knees and replied, “Happy Birthday, Lord.”                   

Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays (Isaiah 9:6), a reflection on this season with some thoughts by Chuck Swindoll.

SCRIPTURE: Isaiah 9:6 (TM)

For a child has been born - for us! the gift of a son - for us! He'll take over the running of the world. His names will be: Amazing Counselor, Strong God, Eternal Father, Prince of Wholeness.

STORY: by Chuck Swindoll

Take the year 1809. The international scene was tumultuous. Napoleon was sweeping through Austria; blood was flowing freely. Nobody then cared about babies. But the world was overlooking some terribly significant births.

For example, William Gladstone was born that year. He was destined to become one of England's finest statesman. That same year, Alfred Tennyson was born to an obscure minister and his wife. The child would one day greatly affect the literary world in a marked manner. On the American continent, Oliver Wendell Holmes was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts. And not far away in Boston, Edgar Allan Poe began his eventful, albeit tragic, life. It was also in that same year that a physician named Darwin and his wife named their child Charles Robert. And that same year produced the cries of a newborn infant in a rugged log cabin in Hardin County, Kentucky. The baby's name? Abraham Lincoln.

If there had been news broadcasts at that time, I'm certain these words would have been heard: "The destiny of the world is being shaped on an Austrian battlefield today." But history was actually being shaped in the cradles of England and America. Similarly, everyone thought taxation was the big news--when Jesus was born. But a young Jewish woman cradled the biggest news of all: the birth of the Savior.    

OBSERVATION:

It might be viewed as heretical, but I don’t get bent out of shape over the issues of Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays or Jesus is the reason for the season or keeping Christ in Christmas. I just don’t and let me try to explain why.

First of all, the celebration of the birth of Jesus just wasn’t important to the early church. Scripturally it is only mentioned in 2 of the 4 Gospels and not at all in any of the New Testament letters. The early church observed the weeks before Christmas as a time of prayer, fasting, alms giving, Bible study and penteance. Their focus was on Calvary and the death and resurrection of Christ  … nothing else mattered. So if we really want to center our attention on Christ during this season we would follow their example.

It wasn’t until these early believers began to incorborate the various pagan elements of the society in which they lived did the church begin to widen the scope of their observance to include much of what we presently include in our Advent journey towards Christmas. 

Christmas is only 12-days (December 25 to January 6). The period that we call Christmas includes four weeks of Advent, 12-days of Christmas, the New Year celebration and the Day of Epiphany, January 6^th. It includes more than just Christmas so the Happy Holidays greeting is okay with me.

Keeping Christ in Christmas to some extent is/was a response to stores that used the Xmas abbrevation. This doesn’t disturb me either because the Greek X is Chi which means Christ and the X is one of the oldest and lasting symbols for Christ.

And now for the last phrase, Jesus is the reason for the season. I would much prefer the simple, Jesus Is The Reason … period. Jesus is the reason for life, hope, possibility and not just one season out of 12 months. We parade our Christian pride once a year. We declare our commitment once a year. We make a big deal once a year. We ignore our witness to the truth of Christ for the other 11-months.

Heretical? Maybe. A call to a deeper relationship with Christ? Always. A desire to make our celebration continuous? By all means, YES! May the spirit of Christ and Christmas live in us 365 days a year and not just for a few weeks.

PRAYER:

Bring us and our world back into focus. Help us to set Christ-centered priorities. May the spirit of the season live in us for 365 days. Bring us back into focus. 

Our sighs and groans become the reality of our prayer life (Romans 8:26) with a story from the mission field about a water bottle.

SCRIPTURE: Romans 8:26 (NIV)

The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.

And the Message has it this way: Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.

STORY:

Dr. Helen Roseveare, missionary to Zaire, told the following story. "A mother at our mission station died after giving birth to a premature baby. We tried to improvise an incubator to keep the infant alive, but the only hot water bottle we had was beyond repair. So we asked the children to pray for the baby and for her sister. One of the girls responded. 'Dear God, please send a hot water bottle today. Tomorrow will be too late because by then the baby will be dead. And dear Lord, send a doll for the sister so she won't feel so lonely.' That afternoon a large package arrived from England. The children watched eagerly as we opened it. Much to their surprise, under some clothing was a hot water bottle! Immediately the girl who had prayed so earnestly started to dig deeper, exclaiming, 'If God sent that, I'm sure He also sent a doll!' And she was right! The heavenly Father knew in advance of that child's sincere requests, and 5 months earlier He had led a ladies' group to include both of those specific articles."

OBSERVATION:

Answers are on the way even before we ask. Do we believe this? Sometimes we do and sometimes we don’t. It kind of boils down to … what answers has God given recently.

Prayer is an interesting discipline. Some of us doing it well, others not so much. Some regularly pepper their waking moments with prayers all day long. Some are better at lifting the needs of others than addressing anything of a personal nature. And then there are the vast majority of us who simply sigh or lift up to God the simplest of all prayers – HELP! Prayer is an interesting discipline.

A wise mentor to young clergy suggested that these young men and women keep a prayer journal. The first section of this journal should be the times and dates of when they are conscious that they are praying. The second section should be a listing of whom they are praying for taking particular note of how often their name is entered. Only after those two have received the proper notes did he suggest that they write about what they are praying for.

This is the reverse for most of us. We are good at making a list of subject matter of our prayers and maybe a listing of the people for whom we are praying, especially ourselves. His purpose was to make us aware of how often we really do pray, to create the discipline of focusing our spirit on people as well as helping us to understand that the subject matter of our prayers really isn’t that important except to help us understand how often we simply sigh before God. We sigh out of frustration and doubt, out of being filled with anxiety and worry, out of the very human reality that in most situations we simply do not know what to pray for.

Two lessons were learned. Lesson number one was that much of our life was prayer driven. And lesson number two was that prayer is a dependent discipline. Most of the time we really do have to rely on the Holy Spirit doing the heavy lifting when it comes to our prayer life … Sigh!

PRAYER:

(Sigh) … (groan) … (letting out a deep breath) … (a double sigh)

The Power of Restoration (Luke 19:10) with a couple of Chuck Swindoll stories.

SCRIPTURE: Luke 19:10 (TM)

For the Son of Man came to find and restore the lost.

STORY: as told by Chuck Swindoll

A few years ago, an angry man rushed through the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam until he reached Rembrandt's famous painting "Nightwatch." Then he took out a knife and slashed it repeatedly before he could be stopped. A short time later, a distraught, hostile man slipped into St. Peter's Cathedral in Rome with a hammer and began to smash Michelangelo's beautiful sculpture The Pieta. Two cherished works of art were severely damaged. But what did officials do? Throw them out and forget about them? Absolutely not! Using the best experts, who worked with the utmost care and precision, they made every effort to restore the treasures.

By His sovereign grace, God can bring good out of our failures, and even out of our sins. J. Stuart Holden tells of an old Scottish mansion close to where he had his little summer home. The walls of one room were filled with sketches made by distinguished artists. The practice began after a pitcher of soda water was accidentally spilled on a freshly decorated wall and left an unsightly stain. At the time, a noted artist, Lord Landseer, was a guest in the house. One day when the family went out to the moors, he stayed behind. With a few masterful strokes of a piece of charcoal, that ugly spot became the outline of a beautiful waterfall, bordered by trees and wildlife. He turned that disfigured wall into one of his most successful depictions of Highland life.

OBSERVATION:

We have all seen them – a pile of rust missing the doors, hood, tires, engine, windshield and much more. We wouldn’t give this discarded old automobile a second look let alone purchase it. Then the work of restoration begins. With a patient hand and lots of long hours a beautiful old car begins to emerge from that pile of rust. Eventually a prize winning antique automobile sits in a car show. We marvel at the before pictures. We are amazed at the step-by-step record of what had transpired to return the pile of rust to the beautiful vehicle that sits before us. Such is the power of restoration … the work of a master’s hand.

And so it goes in our lives. Plug-nickels are more valuable than us. We feel useless and discarded. We are ignored, discounted and dismissed … and then the Master’s hand begins the process of restoration, rebuilding us from the ground up … lovingly returning us to God’s created beauty.

No one is beyond hope. No one is so flawed that God cannot restore them. No one. Such is the power of God’s mercy and grace. Such is the message of the advent of God into our world. Regardless of how dark it might seem presently, there is still hope. Regardless of how bad we might appear, there is still possibilities. Regardless of the horrible, mistake driven our life might actually be, there is greatness still within us.

Christmas is God’s affirmation that he is still in the restoration business … taking the likes of you and me and returning us back to our original state of created beauty. That is what he does! The finished results are wonderful to behold. Don’t we all like the before and after pictures?  Especially when a human life is at stake. Isn’t that just like God! Sure makes for a merry time of life!

PRAYER:

Thank you for taking our pile of messed up life, a life filled with too many mistakes to count, and restoring us through Jesus Christ with love and grace to your original design. 

Finding a foundation that works (1 Corinthians 3:14) with a story from the work of Frank Lloyd Wright.

SCRIPTURE: 1 Corinthians 3:14 (TM)

If your work passes inspection, fine … and from the NIV: No one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.

STORY:

The great architect Frank Lloyd Wright was given the challenge of building the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, one of the most earthquake-prone cities in the world. Wright's investigation showed that a solid foundation could be "floated" on a sixty-foot layer of soft mud underlying the hotel, which would provide a shock-absorbing but solid support for the immense building. Shortly after the hotel was completed it withstood the worst earthquake in fifty-two years, while lesser buildings fell in ruins around it.

OBSERVATION:

There are foundations and then there are foundations. We build our lives on a foundation of our own choosing. Sometimes it is financial, while at other times it is job security or family and our reputation. We pay the price and make our pick.

Over time, some foundations will prove false and everything that we have built our life on will come tumbling down. Our health will fail, our job will be lost, our relationships will no longer be as strong as they once were, and our money will only provide so much security and satisfaction.

Over time, other foundations will prove themselves well worth the effort and cost. Much like Frank Lloyd Wright’s costly, as in reputation, will be proven a correct choice. His critics thought he was crazy, but time proved him right. We can build our lives based on our own workmanship and if it passes the test, fine … but it won’t.

All we have to do is look at the ruined lives around us to begin to understand which foundations work for the long haul. We fool ourselves into thinking that this too shall last. We’ll bet the odds this time. We will be successful where everyone else has failed. We will be the only one left standing as life takes its toll on everyone around us. But, alas, the only one we fool is ourselves.

There is only one foundation that works for life, in life and throughout the full extent of life … Jesus Christ. We can, and often do, try the full smorgasbord of foundational offerings presented by the world to only discover that they are all lacking. Our life will lay in ruin if we don’t change and embrace the only one that can withstand the “earthquakes” that life will throw at us … and trust me, evidentially, there will come an “earthquake” the size and strength we could never anticipate. The emotional and personal devastation will leave our lives in ruin. Unless …

Unless we have built our lives on the only foundation that can last the “storm of the century,” the worst “earthquake” that life can throw at us … namely, the sure foundation of Jesus Christ. It will be those believers, “trusters” in Christ, that will be left standing when the dust settles.  

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name

On Christ, the solid rock, I stand;

All other ground is sinking sand,

All other ground is sinking sand.

PRAYER:

Our only hope in this difficult and challenging world is you, Jesus. Be patient with us as we “test” other ways. We’ll be back as the other offerings fail us. Bring us back to the sure foundation, the rock of our salvation. Help us to realize that Christ alone offers a place to stand.