It was not like he never had seen a baby before – indeed, he had witnessed
the birth of two and had held many others.
It was not like he never had seen a baby before – indeed, he had witnessed
the birth of two and had held many others.
And yet, here he stood, in the parking lot of a shopping center, leaning into
the back seat of a vehicle, rubbing a finger over the soft cheek of a child
– and crying.
What gives Christmas its wonder?
What makes it special – different from all other holidays?
Is it the unexplainable star, unimaginable heavenly host, unusual setting,
unexpected wise men?
Be honest.
This is a skeptical age.
Many find such details hard to conceive, even harder to accept.
Indeed, two national magazines recently produced cover stories examining the
long-ago event, exploring oh-so-rational explanations to its twists and turns.
“(But) The Christmas story that Christians know by heart is actually a
collection of mysteries,” the article in the Dec. 13 issue of Time magazine
concludes.
True.
It is mystery some accept.
It is mystery some reject.
But it is mystery no one can deny.
Something about Christmas draws all.
What is it?
What is the wonder?
Where does its power come from in these doubtful days – days in which
it is easy to dismiss things like a virgin birth and miraculous star and traveling
wise men. Such things are fantasy to so many, “childlike” as one writer
has said.
Except …
Something still draws one to the story.
Can it be explained?
As one writer has said, everything possible has been done to destroy the event.
It has been commercialized, trivialized, secularized, even compartmentalized.
And yet, it has remained, an event that changed history, divided history.
There is no one who can deny that, no one who can sit alone, in the dark, in
the quiet of the night and not admit it.
Christmas changed the world.
It offers to change everyone.
Explain it?
It cannot be explained.
It only can be believed.
It only can be embraced.
That is the wonder of Christmas.
He talked about it later, the emotion, the impact of that initial encounter
with his first grandchild.
“I was in the badlands,” he said of the circumstances of his life.
This was out of time. My son was way too young – to be a husband, a father.
This was not the way it was supposed to happen.
“And yet, here was this child, this little baby boy, and somehow all the
hurt and pain and mistakes and failures of my life – and my sons
life – were redeemed.
“Here was a chance.
“Here was hope.”