So this is Christmas ...
… and what have you done? I’ll tell you what *I’ve* done. I’ve
assembled the year in pictures, or at least a few highlights of it. The
link to month one is at the bottom of this article. So read it. Then
click it.
It’s my first Christmas on the coast. Seems a little unusual to go outside on Christmas Eve night and find sixty-degree temperatures. But it’s GOOD unusual. Tonight, as I was walking in from the garage, I glanced up at the sky, and it was so stunning I had to stop. The sky is crystal clear, and the gift of being able to see twinkling light millions of miles away stopped me in my tracks.
For just a moment, I paused … and tried to imagine what it would have been like 2000 years ago to be lying in a field, the sounds of sleeping sheep surrounding me, staring up at those same stars. How quiet would it be? How cold would it be? How dark? And then … I try to imagine what it would have been like to suddenly hear a voice from the sky. As if that wasn’t enough, how amazing would it be when suddenly an entire choir is hovering over me singing in perfect four-part harmony about a baby, the Son of God, having been born in the dinky little town just over the hill?
We breeze over that in the account. But think about it. Go outside right now. Or finish reading, then go outside. Look up at the sky and imagine it. In the darkness, in the stillness … an other-wordly song erupts, telling you of events that you never imagined. What’s the message you receive? In our world, it would probably be something like this … “Go to town .. on 3rd street, there’s a garage tucked in behind that store, you know the one - with elves painted on the windows. In that garage, you’re gonna find a teenaged girl, her fiancee, and their new baby. He’s gonna be wrapped in mechanics’ rags and laying in an old oilpan.” You’d have to go see, wouldn’t you? I would.
It’s an odd story. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget how weird this whole thing is … and don’t let the ever-present plastic manger scenes rob the scene of its wonder. Go out. Look at the stars if you can see them. Hear the angels’ song in your heart … because 2000 years later, they’re still singing, and still calling us to the manger.
2005: A Year in Pictures
It’s my first Christmas on the coast. Seems a little unusual to go outside on Christmas Eve night and find sixty-degree temperatures. But it’s GOOD unusual. Tonight, as I was walking in from the garage, I glanced up at the sky, and it was so stunning I had to stop. The sky is crystal clear, and the gift of being able to see twinkling light millions of miles away stopped me in my tracks.
For just a moment, I paused … and tried to imagine what it would have been like 2000 years ago to be lying in a field, the sounds of sleeping sheep surrounding me, staring up at those same stars. How quiet would it be? How cold would it be? How dark? And then … I try to imagine what it would have been like to suddenly hear a voice from the sky. As if that wasn’t enough, how amazing would it be when suddenly an entire choir is hovering over me singing in perfect four-part harmony about a baby, the Son of God, having been born in the dinky little town just over the hill?
We breeze over that in the account. But think about it. Go outside right now. Or finish reading, then go outside. Look up at the sky and imagine it. In the darkness, in the stillness … an other-wordly song erupts, telling you of events that you never imagined. What’s the message you receive? In our world, it would probably be something like this … “Go to town .. on 3rd street, there’s a garage tucked in behind that store, you know the one - with elves painted on the windows. In that garage, you’re gonna find a teenaged girl, her fiancee, and their new baby. He’s gonna be wrapped in mechanics’ rags and laying in an old oilpan.” You’d have to go see, wouldn’t you? I would.
It’s an odd story. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget how weird this whole thing is … and don’t let the ever-present plastic manger scenes rob the scene of its wonder. Go out. Look at the stars if you can see them. Hear the angels’ song in your heart … because 2000 years later, they’re still singing, and still calling us to the manger.
2005: A Year in Pictures