A few years ago I was asked to write a Christmas memory for a church publication and thought this would be a good time to pull it out and post it here:

There had been a deluge of the white stuff the day before. Now, everything was calm, quiet and dark-white. And knee deep. Of course, the snow was just barely over my dad’s ankles, but he was tall and I was masquerading as a seven year old, having just had a birthday the day before.

So, it was a semi-dark and peaceful night. Well, it was really very early morning. Around four a.m. I didn’t even know they had a four o’ clock in the morning. My dad had gotten me out of my pseudo-warm bed and took me out into the dark to show me what Christmas meant to him. It had sounded far more impressive the night before.

As we set in the cold cab of his pick-up truck waiting for the heater to warm up, Daddy reminded me that I would have to stay as quiet as a thief. I didn’t really know any thieves, so I had no real benchmark to go by. We drove a few blocks in the freshly fallen snow and arrived at a vacant house where my dad pulled into the driveway. Actually, there was no driveway, but if there had of been one, we would’ve been parked where it should’ve been.

We got out of the warm truck and I landed in the knee deep stuff that was in drifts as high as my head. Daddy gave me a look that made me realize that I was actually telepathic. And I didn’t even know what “telepathic” meant! But I got a really clear-buoyant message that Daddy didn’t want to see foot prints in the drifts so, against my primal urges, I walked around them.

As carefully as I could, I marched forward in the cold. Eventually, we arrived in front of an old, broken down house and hid behind an elm tree near the front yard. Daddy whispered to me, “Stay here, don’t move, and don’t make a sound. I’ll be right back.” With that, he carefully scampered (not unlike the Grinch) to the front door, where he laid a large, still-dirty feed sack, filled with brightly wrapped packages. Through the process of delivering the packages, my dad seemed to be really invigorated. I was just tired and cold!

Back at the pick-up, Daddy started the engine and more importantly, the heater. We drove down to the town square in our very small desert town. Earlier, in the dark of evening, the Christmas decorations had been all lit up. But now, these decorations were all dark and barely visible. Daddy made me get out of the heated cab and walk into the cold, dark park with him.

On one side of our decidedly Christian square was a life-sized nativity scene made of plywood. We walked up close enough to be having a conversation with some of the shepherds. The wise men looked different from up close and I began to notice things that I had not seen before. Then, Daddy began to explain the birth of Jesus to me. I had probably heard the story in some form or another a handful of times by the time I was seven, but somehow, it had never had the impact that it did that night. Standing there in the snow, Daddy told me of how Jesus was born to a poor, traveling family with no place to stay. Daddy explained to me, that they were placed in a make-shift room that used to be a house for cows and sheep.

It was probably cold. It was mostly dark. And just like Daddy and I, Joseph and Mary were the only ones stirring in that small town at that hour. And God chose that moment and that place for the King of Glory to arrive in our world. Daddy explained to me that he had used a dirty feed sack to deliver Christmas packages to a needy family because it just seemed a little more like Christ. Jesus had been born into a dirty stable and his first crib had been a feed trough for sheep. If anyone had looked at the outside, it would have seemed a little less than regal. But there were some shepherds who had been given some inside information telling them to look inside.

Daddy told me that the most important part of Christmas is to show Christ to the world around us. We do that most by letting the world around us see Christ at work in us.

This Christmas, I am reminded to show Jesus to someone who needs Him. Will you join me?