For unto you is born this day in the city of David a
Savior, which is Christ the Lord…
…Herein is love, not that
we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son
to be the propitiation for our sins.
Luke 2:11 and I John 4:10
of Bethlehem Love is Born, Hope is Here
By Max Lucado
I love Christmas. Let the sleigh bells ring. Let the
carolers sing. The more Santas the merrier. The more
trees the better.
Christmas. The ho ho ho, the rooty toot toot, the
thumpety, thump, thump, and the pa rum pa pump um.
The “Silent Night” and the sugarplums.
I don’t complain about the crowded shops. I don’t
grumble at the jam-packed grocery store. The flight
is full? The restaurant is packed? Well, it’s
And I love
Scrooge, Cousin Eddie, and the “official Red Ryder,
carbine-action, two-hundred shot range model air
rifle.” “You’ll shoot your eye out!”
The tinsel and the clatter and waking up “to see
what was the matter.” Bing and his tunes. Macy’s
balloons. Mistletoe kisses, Santa Claus wishes, and
favorite dishes. Holiday snows, warm winter clothes,
and Rudolph’s red nose.
I love Christmas.
it because somewhere someone will ask the Christmas
questions: What’s the big deal about the bag by in
the manger? Who was he? What does his birth have to
do with me? The questioner may be a child looking at
a front-yard crèche. He may be a soldier stationed
far from home. She may be a young mom who, for the
first time, holds a child on Christmas Eve. The
Christmas season prompts questions.
I can remember the first time I asked those
questions. I grew up in a small West Texas town, the
son of a mechanic
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