My Christmas Prayer
My prayer for 20 years has finally come true—sort of. We have a house this Christmas. We can’t live in it yet, but we have actually purchased a home.
As my children grew up, I wanted to give them the same kind of Christmas that I enjoyed as a child. My grandma was an amazing home maker, and she knew how to do Christmas! The Christmas tree with lights and sparkly ornaments went up the day after Thanksgiving. In my teen years, grandma worked for a lace company, so she made her own ornaments out of bits of that lace. Tied up with a red ribbon, they were unique and beautiful. She had a collection of Dickens Village pieces. Tiny houses, a school, a steepled church, post office, and general store all settled across her mantle, with cheerful lights shining from each window. Mistletoe was hung in the same spot every year, where she and Grandpa would often find each other.
Presents were bought and wrapped quickly. Somehow she managed to wrap our own gifts right under our noses without our ever knowing what we were getting! And the pile under the tree grew larger each year as we added more family members.
On Christmas morning, I always awakened to the smell of freshly baking bread and pies, as grandma prepared the meal that the whole family would enjoy. Soon aunts and uncles, cousins and special friends joined us at the house, making everything seem warmer and brighter. We enjoyed the delicious chicken and noodles together, and for once, the children wanted to skip dessert so we could get to our presents.
I tried over the years to duplicate those memories. I don’t think I ever achieved that, but we did make some pretty great memories of our own. Advent calendars. Special Christmas movies. Favorite meals and cookies. The Christmas story and carols before opening presents. Somewhere in the jumble of time, Daddy started the tradition that Mommy should have the most presents. The kids joined in enthusiastically, making homemade gifts and treats for me. Tears always seemed to find their way down my cheeks as I opened those precious mementos.
The last time we owned a home, my youngest daughter was barely two years old. Now, she is a junior in college. It is true that Christmas can be celebrated and memories can be created in rental homes, mission apartments, and borrowed dwellings. Our family is proof of that fact.
But in celebrating Christmas in all different places, with second-hand decorations and make-do materials, I can’t get over the fact that this holiday is really about Jesus’s choice to leave His home—to die for the world. Born in a manger, raised as every other Jewish boy of His day, He lived as one of His own creation. The Bible tells us that He “laid aside His glory” and shared in all our human experiences—yet never sinned—so that He could also taste death for every one of us. I love the way Philippians 2 describes it:
“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made Himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Phil. 2:5-11)
Why would Jesus do such a thing? It was love. Love for the Father’s will and for His own people. And it is His love that constrains us to follow wherever He may lead us, too.
This life of travel and change has really been no sacrifice when I consider all that Christ has given to me:
my eternal salvation and security in Him.
His Holy Spirit to dwell within and guide everyday.
His Word, to instruct and correct.
my family.
daily supply of food, shelter, and clothing.
far more of my “wants” than I ever deserve.
And now He has blessed us with a house to make into our home. What extravagance He pours upon us! But I don't want to get too comfortable in this gift. I want to remember what it feels like to be the stranger, the displaced, the longing-for-something-better. Because we all should be looking for that final call from Jesus, when He calls us home to heaven.
The struggles we face on earth—sickness, financial hardship, relationship issues, etc.—are designed to make us aware that what we have here is not the pinnacle of life. A house is not the goal. Money, health, and peace on earth are not the goal. Knowing God and doing His will is the goal. Eternity in His presence is the satisfaction we long for, but will never find on earth.
So what is my Christmas prayer for myself and for you, my friends? It is that we will not get too comfortable in our homes, our traditions, our familiar things. But that we will remember the ultimate goal of life and strive to walk ever closer with God each day. Sometimes, God uses uncomfortable things to remind us of our dependence on Him; He always knows what we need. But this year, He has used the gift of a house to remind me that ultimately, my home is with Him. And He brought that home to earth in the form of a tiny baby named Jesus—Emmanuel.
Merry Christmas!