My feet were tired, my hands cold, my arms exhausted from
the weight of the packages, and it was beginning to snow. The bus was late. I
kept rearranging my packages, trying to hold them in a different way in order
to give my poor arms a rest. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday,
and yet fifteen years have gone by. Nevertheless, when Christmas rolls around,
I remember that day on the bus.
I was tired. I had been Christmas shopping all day long. When
the bus finally arrived, it was packed with holiday shoppers in the same
exhausted mood as I. I sank into the only vacant place, near the back, by a
handsome gentleman. He politely helped me to situate my packages and even held
some of them himself.
“My goodness," he said, "did you leave any
merchandise still in the stores for the rest of us?"
"I don’t think so," I moaned. "Worst of
all, I still haven’t made all of my purchases."
The woman in the seat behind us joined in my grief and
added, "No, the worst thing is that the day after Christmas we will be
carrying this same armload back to the store to exchange it."
Her comment brought a general chuckle from all those
within earshot, including my seat mate. As the laughter subsided, he began in a
quiet, melodious voice, deepened with experience, to teach me a lesson that I
have never forgotten:
"Hear now the parable of the shopper," he said,
speaking gently and indicating my packages. "A woman went forth to shop,
and as she shopped, she carefully planned. Each child’s desires were
considered. The hard-earned money was divided, and the many purchases were made
with the pure joy and delight that is known only to the giver. Then the gifts
were wrapped and placed lovingly under the tree. In eager anticipation she
scanned each face as the gifts were opened."
"'What a lovely sweater,' said the eldest daughter,
'but I think I would prefer blue. I suppose I can exchange it?'
"'Thank you for the C.D. player, Mother. It’s
just what I wanted,' said her son. And then aside, secretly to his sister, he
continued, 'I told her I wanted the one with the automatic reverse and an extra
speaker. I never get what I want!'
"The youngest child spoke out with the spoiled
honesty of her age, 'I hate rag dolls! I wanted a china doll. I won't play with
it!' And the doll, still in the box, was kicked under the couch."
"One gift still lay under the tree. The woman
pointed it out to her husband. 'Your gift is still there.'
"'I'll open it when I have the time,' he stated. 'I
want to get this bike put together first.'
"How sad it is," continued his soft, beautiful
voice. "When gifts are not received in the same spirit they are given. To
reject a thoughtful gift is to reject the loving sentiment of the giver
himself. And yet, are we not all sometimes guilty of rejecting?"
He was talking not only to me, but to all of those on the
bus. They had all gathered around. The bus was parked.
He took a present from my stack.
"This one," he said, holding it up and
pretending to open the card, "could be to you." He pointed to a
rough-looking, teenage boy in a worn denim jacket and pretended to read the
gift card. "To you I give My life, lived perfectly, as an example so that
you might see the pattern and live worthy to return and live with Me again. Merry
Christmas from the Messiah."
"This one," he said, holding up a pure, white
present, "is for you." He held out the gift to a worn-looking woman,
who in earlier years must have been a real beauty. She read the card out loud
and allowed her tears to slip without shame down her painted face. "My
gift to you is repentance. This Christmas I wish you to know for certain that
though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow. Signed, your
Advocate with the Father."
"That isn’t all. No, here is a big, red
package." he looked around the group and brought a ragged, unkempt, little
child forward. "This package would be for you if He were here. The card
would say, 'On this Christmas and always, My gift to you is love. From your
brother, Jesus.'"
"One final gift," said my seat mate. "The
greatest of all the gifts of God--Eternal life!"
He held our minds and our hearts. We were a hungry
audience. Though our shopping had left us drained, now we were being filled by
his words.
"How we receive these gifts, these precious gifts
from the Babe of Bethlehem, is the telling point. Are we exchangers?" he
asked. "Is there really anything else we would rather have? It is what we
do with a gift long after we have opened it that shows our true
appreciation."
With those words he was gone. That was fifteen years ago,
only a wink in time. But not even an eternity could erase the sermon, or the
man.
Family
Moment
We hear so often the phrase "Jesus died for me"
that sometimes we forget the purpose of salvation isn't just to be glad our
souls are safe for eternity; it's to follow Jesus’s example--give ourselves to
others. That's what the Scripture talks about in 2 Kings, and that’s what
Christ did for us.
The truth is, we were saved from something for something.
As a family, you can create a giving experience by going
to a homeless shelter or making sandwiches to pass out, and this is a good
thing to do. But what if this year you prayed for God to send a giving
experience? God is more than able to answer and would delight at your willingness
to be a blessing in the life of another soul--or many souls--whom he loves.
An
Advent Prayer
Our Father in heaven, thank you for being the gift that
holds families together, even over time and distance. Is there someone I know
who needs the present and the presence of Jesus in their home this Christmas?
Is there a stranger? Please show me who. I want more than ever to give your
love to those who need it. You gave yourself for me when I needed it. Help me
to do the same. In the name of Jesus, amen.
