Tis the Season . . . For Giving
Two young boys were spending the night at their grandparents’ house the week before Christmas. At bedtime, the two boys knelt beside their beds to say their prayers. The younger one began praying at the top of his lungs: "I PRAY FOR A NEW BICYCLE..." "I PRAY FOR A NEW PS3..." His older brother leaned over, nudged him and said, "Why are you shouting? God isn’t deaf." to which the little brother replied, "No, but Grandma is!"
Dear Santa,
This is my Christmas list: a bike and a wii and a basketball hoop the kind that
you sit in the driveway and I want surprise stuff too. Santa - I have been very
good this year. If my sister says anything about me breaking her talking doll, I
just want you to know that it just stopped talking – I had nothing to do with it
even if I was holding it.
Jason
PS And I'm really very sorry about Blackie, her hamster
1In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: 2Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction. 2 Timothy 4:1, 2
1) The Season of Giving sets a foundation for a Lifetime of Blessings
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, 4who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, Galatians 1:3, 4
One of things I love about Christmas is that is helps get each of us back on the right track of giving. I’ve noticed that many are involved in great Christmas outreach projects during the Christmas season . . Toys for Tots, Elf Louise,
And these efforts are fantastic. But, shouldn’t we be doing these type of efforts all year round?
Christmas is a season of giving that sets a foundation for a Lifetime of Love.
If we could only learn to show this kind of love all year round.
Example: Orphanage Ministry. CAM. Daily Bread.
It’s Christmas time, and Lucy comes in where Charlie Brown
is standing & says, "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown. `Tis the season of peace on
earth & good will toward men. Therefore, I suggest we forget all our differences
& love one another."
Charlie Brown, whose face lights up at this, says, "That’s wonderful, Lucy.
I’m so glad you said that. But tell me, do we have to love each other only at
this season of the year? Why can’t we love each other all year long?" Lucy
retorts, "What are you, a fanatic or something?"
When it comes to the Christmas season and the month of December, things are just different. Have you noticed that? Here is San Antonio, even the weather is different. We are expecting snow on Friday. And we waited and waited. Kids were wanting to stay home from school. Adults wanted to stay home from work. And the snow didn’t come. Our White Christmas is only a dream! Do we blame the weather forecasters?
One day in early September the chief of a Native American tribe was asked by his tribal elders if the winter of 2008/9 was going to be cold or mild. The chief asked his medicine man, but he too had lost touch with the reading signs from the natural world around the Great Lakes.
In truth, neither of them had idea about how to predict the coming winter. However, the chief decided to take a modern approach, and the chief rang the National Weather Service in Gaylord Michigan.
'Yes, it is going to be a cold winter,' the meteorological officer told the chief. Consequently, he went back to his tribe and told the men to collect plenty of firewood.
A fortnight later the chief called the Weather Service and asked for an update. 'Are you still forecasting a cold winter?' he asked.
'Yes, very cold', the weather officer told him.
As a result of this brief conversation the chief went back to the tribe and told his people to collect every bit of wood they could find.
A month later the chief called the National Weather Service once more and asked about the coming winter. 'Yes,' he was told, 'it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever.'
'How can you be so sure?' the chief asked.
The weatherman replied: 'Because the Native Americans of the Great Lakes are collecting wood like crazy.'
2) The Sacrifice of Giving Reveals the Heart of the Father.
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16
· It cost Mary and Joseph the comforts of home during a long period of exile in Egypt to protect the little babe. It was a sacrifice.
· It cost mothers and fathers, in and around Bethlehem, the massacre of their babies by the cruel order of Herod. It was a sacrifice.
· It cost the shepherds the complacency of their comfort zone and answer their call to tell the good news.
· It cost the wise men a long journey, lots of time away from home and expensive gifts. It was a sacrifice.
· It cost missionaries of Christ untold suffering and privation to spread the Good News.
· It cost Christian martyrs in all ages their lives for Christ’s sake. It was a sacrifice.
· More than all this, it cost God the Father His own Son—He sent Him to the earth to save men.
· It cost Jesus a life of sacrifice and service, a death cruel and unmatched in history. Jesus Christ is the essence of sacrifice.
In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone.
The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.
He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.
The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whoever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel.
An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night. I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people.
I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana I wondered? I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys - then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boy’s pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.
On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.
When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.
Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll. As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.
Best of all, Christmas means a spirit of love,a time when the love of God and love of our fellow men should prevail over all hatred and bitterness, a time when our thoughts and deeds and the spirit of our lives manifest the presence of God.
-George F. McDougall
3) The Spirit of Giving brings on the Spirit of JOY!
8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Luke 2:8-10
JOY IN THE CHRISTMAS STORY:
• Luke 1:14 - Zechariah was told by the angel, “You will have joy, and gladness,
and many will rejoice at his birth.”
• Luke 1:44 – John the Baptist leaped for joy in his mother’s womb
• Luke 1:47 – Mary rejoiced in God her Saviour
• Luke 1:58 – they were rejoicing with Elizabeth
• Luke 2:10 – the angel proclaimed, “Good news of GREAT JOY.”
Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her King!
JOY IN CHRISTMAS CAROLS:
• O holy night… A thrill of hope the weary world REJOICES, For yonder breaks a
new and glorious morn!
• Hark! the herald angels sing, - "Glory to the newborn King! Peace on earth,
and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled." JOYFUL, all ye nations rise, Join
the triumph of the skies; With angelic host proclaim, "Christ is born in
Bethlehem."
• Come, all ye faithful, JOYFUL and triumphant, O come ye, O come ye to
Bethlehem
• JOY to the world! The Lord is come: Let earth receive her King.
WHAT IS JOY? It is different than happiness.
• Happiness is based on circumstances. Joy is based on an attitude of the heart.
new job = happy; joy = even in the midst of the storms of life
• “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Ps. 30:5).
Somehow, not only for Christmas, but all the long year through, The joy that you give to others,Is the joy that comes back to you.
-John Greenleaf Whittier
Jesus
Others
You
Story of St. Nicholas
He was a boy when he lost his parents very early in life. It was an epidemic that took them, but not before he was old enough for them to help him discover his gift of faith and gift of giving. Little Nicholas went to Myra and lived a life full of self-offering, and giving of himself. His life was full of sacrifice and love, just like Jesus.
As a teen-ager, Nicholas’ humility was already evident. He had heard about a family destitute and starving. The father had no money for food, much less the dowry needed to marry off his three daughters. Under the cover of night, Nicholas threw a bag of gold coins through the window of their humble dwelling. In the morning the father discovered the gold. How he rejoiced: his family was saved, and a dowry for her marriage secured. Some time after, Nicholas secretly provided a dowry for the second daughter. Still later for the third. But on the third occasion, the girls’ father stood watching. As soon as the bag of gold thudded on the floor, he chased after the lad till he caught him. Nicholas was mortified to be discovered in this act of charity. He made the father promise not to tell anyone who had helped his family. There were many times that he would put on a disguise and go out and give gifts to the poor children. In fact Nicholas gave away everything he had, plus everything he could get.
Then Nicholas answered his call to the ministry. Nicholas was in the habit of rising very early and going to the church to pray. One particular morning, an aged minister awaited him in the sanctuary. "Who are you, my son?" he asked. "Nicholas the sinner," the young minister replied. "And I am your servant."
They chose him as bishop. Nicholas was destined to lead his congregation through the worst tribulation in history. In A.D. 303, the Roman Emperor Diocletian ordered a brutal persecution of all Christians. Many people professing to be Christian were dragged to prison. Some were fed to wild animals. Some were forced to fight gladiators for their lives while bloodthirsty crowds screamed for their death. Women suffered dehumanizing torment. Yet persecution couldn’t stamp out Christianity. Rather it spread.
Those who survived Diocletian’s torture chambers were called "saints" or "confessors" by the people, because they didn’t forsake their confession that Jesus Christ is Lord. Nicholas was one of these. Finally, after years of imprisonment, the iron doors swung open and Bishop Nicholas walked out, freed by decree of the new Emperor Constantine. As he entered his city once more, his people flocked about him. "Nicholas! Confessor!" they shouted. "Saint Nicholas has come home." The bishop was beaten but not broken. He served Christ’s people in Myra for another thirty years. Through the prayers of this tried and tested soldier of faith, many found salvation and healing.
St. Nick of yuletide fame still carries faint reminders of this ancient man of God. The color of his outfit recollects the red of bishop’s robes. "Making a list, checking it twice," probably recalls the bishop’s lectures to children about good behavior. Gifts secretly brought on Christmas Eve bring to mind his humble generosity to families in need.
People have done many things to old St. Nick. Clement Moore the poet gave him a red nose and eight tiny reindeer. Artist Thomas Nast gave Nicholas a round belly. But those things really aren’t that important are they? What is important is that he lived in the mind set and the life style of Christ. And because he lived that lifestyle, the life of Nicholas touched the whole world and it does to this very day. But here is the really important part of the story. That same Christ like mind set and that life style is supposed to be in all of us and lived by all of us.
We do not worship Bishop Nicholas, or St. Nick. But, he is an example to us of sacrificial giving. His words still ring out today . . . "I am Nicholas, a sinner and a servant of Christ Jesus."