A Gift of Joy and Love by Pat Cirrincione

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My family was poor when I was growing up. To purchase Christmas gifts for the family, my mom would begin baking pies, cookies and cakes in October for my Dad to bring to his office and sell. Mom’s baked goods were so delicious that every year the orders just kept increasing. We children would usually help ice the cookies (making sure they were done to Mom’s specifications—nothing sloppily made would ever leave her kitchen). As we grew older, we were promoted to packaging the baked goods into boxes for Dad to take to work each morning.

Watching Mom stir and mix the different batters, cut out cookies, make her pies and decorate her cakes, I came up with the idea that she and Dad needed a special gift from their children. It’s not like they didn’t receive gifts from us, but how many paper chains for the Christmas tree could they use? How many hand- painted reindeer could they continue to hang on the walls? Their faces always lit up when they received these gifts from us, but that year I just felt they needed something more special. So, I invited my younger brother and sister to a secret meeting in my bedroom to brainstorm ideas for a special gift, and then to figure out how in the heck we were going to come up with the money to pay for it.

After about an hour of tossing around ideas such as baseball bats, candy, frozen snowballs and bubble gum, we came up with the perfect gift. We should buy them a Nativity set, just like the one the church put out each Christmas. Of course, we wouldn’t get them one with the life-size figurines, but something on a smaller scale that would fit in our home. A Nativity set of our very own, with a Baby Jesus that would be set out after midnight, after the angels announced to the shepherds that a Savior had been born.

My brother and sister looked at me cross-eyed, mouths agape as I began to persuade them why this was such a great idea—better than wrapped packages of candy and bubble gum. Then came the real question: “Pat, how are we going to pay for something like that? We don’t get allowances, we can’t steal the money, and we’re too young to get jobs!” We agreed to hold another secret meeting in the bedroom after we had several days to ponder how to raise the funds for this special gift.

It was my brother who came up with the first idea. He would scour the neighborhood for empty bottles and return them to the local A&P grocery store, where he would collect a penny or two per bottle. My little sister couldn’t come up with any ideas, being three-years-old and all. I decided to write, edit and publish a neighborhood newsletter and sell it for a penny. And we began our yearlong task to put our pennies into a jar hidden away in my clothes drawer.

After Thanksgiving, we decided to count the coins in the jar, and quickly realized we still had some saving to do if we wanted to go to S.S. Kresge’s five and dime to buy the Nativity set we had set our hearts on. I joined my brother looking for empty bottles and sold more copies of my neighborhood newsletter, which now was christened “The Busy Bee Chronicle.” Each copy was handwritten, and always had a feature story about someone in the neighborhood. Who doesn’t like to see their name in print? Especially around the holidays? I worked at increasing “The Busy Bee’s” circulation.

Then it was Christmas Eve. We checked the coin jar in the morning—we had saved a whopping three dollars! Off my brother and I went to Kresge’s. As we trekked through the snow on Madison Street, we discussed what figures the Nativity set should have: Mary and Joseph, Baby Jesus, an angel, a star, three wisemen, a few shepherds, a cow and a donkey. We were jittery with excitement when we got to the spot in the store where the Nativity sets were sold, and then stood in awe at how many shepherds, Wise men, animals and even the Blessed Family from which we could choose! What to do! After several hours of hemming and hawing over each figurine, we finally made our selection, which totaled two dollars and twenty-five cents. As the sales clerk wrapped each piece in tissue paper, my brother and I decided to spend the rest of the money on a plate of French fries at the soda fountain counter. It was hard work picking out our gift, and we were really hungry by the time we were done. We never told our little sister about the French fries because we didn’t want her to feel bad.

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed and we no longer heard our parents talking in the living room, the three of us tiptoed to the living room and placed our gift under the tree, hoping that Santa wouldn’t come and find us still awake. We were jumping with excitement and kept shushing each other so that we didn’t wake up our parents.

Like every home, Christmas morning came very early. Not only were we excited to open our gifts, we could not wait to see the look on our parents’ faces when they opened their gift from us. I will never forget the look on their faces when they didn’t find paper chains or reindeers, but a Nativity set, with all the major people and animals, plus the angel, a star, a manger with straw—and our very own Baby Jesus. My dad smiled and my mom had tears streaming down her face. They were really touched by what we had done and said it was the best Christmas ever. As wrapping paper went flying all over the room as we opened our gifts, Mom and Dad set up the manger, Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus and all the other cast of characters.

Each year after that, our Nativity Set had a special place under the Christmas tree, and Mom and Dad never tired of hearing the story of that Christmas when their three children came up with a plan to surprise them with a real gift, not just paper chains, but a home for our own Baby Jesus, and we could gaze upon the newborn King to our hearts’ content.

Dad and Mom have since “passed over” to eternity, and that Nativity Set now sits in my house. Mom handed it down to me after I got married and made me promise to repeat the story to our children of the year my brother, sister and I came up with the idea to surprise them for Christmas.

Imagine, a Nativity set and the main cast of characters for only two dollars and twenty-five cents. Imagine, Baby Jesus and his family sitting in our home year after year, blessing each and every one of us with the memories of family love that only Jesus could have given to each of us as a gift, and the promise of salvation to those who believe.

Yes, this is a picture of the Nativity set (the hay disappeared from the manger over the years and the Christmas star has lost its glitter). The white angel to the right was made years later by our youngest son.

Yes, this is a picture of the Nativity set (the hay disappeared from the manger over the years and the Christmas star has lost its glitter). The white angel to the right was made years later by our youngest son.

Welcome Christ, the newborn king

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Gifts to you this Christmas.

First, music from Caleb and Whitney Wiley, mid-term missionaries in Madagascar. An original member of ChurchFolk, Caleb now helps believers to create indigenous worship music. Also, music from Pastor Erik Dewar's "Hope in God Psalm Project" Psalm 86.

Second, a Christmas Eve prayer by Wendell C. Hawley from a Pastor Prays for His People

Wonderful Counselor, Might God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace

These divinely given titles only partially describe you, baby of Bethlehem.
They cause us to stop—and worship you in wonder and adoration.
No typical baby, you:
You are a matchless gift from the eternal Kingdom.

Wonderful Counselor, we turn to you amidst the complexities of life, for your counsel is sure.
You know all things—the beginning from the end;
with you is no darkness at all, no confusion, no contingencies.
We commit our needs, our way, our life to you—
direct us, Wonderful Counselor.

We turn to you, Mighty God, for we are limited.
In fact, everything we need comes from you.
Your hand is not shortened, not withered,
your thoughts are not clouded,
your purposes are never frustrated.
Nothing less than a Mighty God could reach us,
save us,
keep us,
provide for us,
raise us up in the last day,
where we will be with the Lord forever.

We turn to you, Everlasting Father, Holy Father,
whose care for his children will never be eclipsed.
For some, the picture of a father's care is gravely distorted,
but there is no disappointment with Jesus.
He alone can promise: Cast all your care upon me, for I care for you.
Not just a few cares, not just for today,
but all our cares—forever . . . Everlasting Father.

We turn to you, Prince of Peace, as the only one who can bring peace
to our hearts, our homes,
our cities, our country,
our world.
Unregenerate mankind plots against God and his Anointed One,
but their hideous rebellion shall utterly fail.
Someday—perhaps today—the Prince of Peace will come and make wars to cease;
no more hatred, no more fighting, no more spilling of blood.
Then, not only wise men and shepherds will bow and worship,
but the whole world—every knee—will bow
and acknowledge him as the King of kings, Prince of Peace.
Even so, come Lord Jesus!
Amen.

Christmas in December . . . or not by Wil Triggs

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A few weeks back, I was standing at the Sunday morning bookstall when a man I know well approached me and asked, “When did we start celebrating Christmas in December?”

“You mean the exact year?” I asked.

“You know it really didn’t happen then,” he said.

I told him I didn’t know the answer to his question, but promised to look into it and get back to him.

Well, I’ve done some research and discovered that it’s not a simple question to answer. I thought that Christmas started with the early church, but from what I’ve been able to tell, celebrating Christ's birth came about later than observing and celebrating his death and resurrection. The Bible connects Christ’s death with Passover, so we can at least know the season. But Christmas is much less tied to any such tradition. And even Luke’s gospel account of the census isn’t as clean to identify as I thought. He alludes to those days, but not specific weeks or months or seasons. I have been able to find surely stated assertions, but there are several, and they don’t agree with one another.

And churches being churches, there’s always the east-west calendar where whole parts of the world celebrate Christmas, just not in December. In our house, we don’t take down our decorations until Orthodox Christmas (January 6). Maybe it’s just an excuse to leave the lights up, but it’s also a nod to Russia and other parts of the world who observe the holiday in the orthodox calendar.

My wife wants a shout out to the minority who like to celebrate Christmas in July. She says they know who they are. And there’s our pastor’s sage comment in last week’s sermon expressing sympathy for the Puritans who banned Christmas. That makes it immaterial altogether.

If we consider the all-important decree of the newly converted Ebenezer Scrooge, “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year” does it really matter when the actual day is? What matters is that we are to strive to keep it all the year.

So now I’m way past answering the question at the bookstall and I’m wondering, “What is it that I’m to strive to keep?”

Do I strive to “take back Christmas” from wherever it might have wandered? What traditions do I strive to keep alive? (Note to self: outdoor Christmas lights are not at top of the list, and yet the gutter lights are on, but our tomato cage Christmas trees are inside by the back door possibly going up this weekend.)

And then, as I’m asking all this, our small group gathering happens. The Christmas dinner edition. Kathy’s authentic cheese tortellini and sausage soup that I’m sure is going to be served in heaven. Lois’s “Irresistible Salad.” Crusty sourdough breads, a mocha cake. I could go on, but I’m already distracting myself and surely you, too. We consider the two sides of Christmas—secular and religious—as expressed in an article by Tim Keller. As we talk, it becomes clear that we each have distinct histories and experiences related to both sides of the Christmas coin.

There’s the relief of no longer having to work in a retail context where people obsessed with deals forget to show any gratitude at all to the workers. There’s Africa, China, Bhutan, Soviet Russia represented—sometimes with no official celebration at all. We celebrate as singles and small and large extended families, open our doors to those who have no where else to go. One person moves from an explosion of excess gifts to only handmade simple gifts. Another gives charitable gifts to meet needs. One family shifts to drawing names to reduce the burden and increase the quality of gifts.

As I listen to the give and take, a Christmas pattern begins to emerge.

It’s a pattern of generosity, thankfulness and humility. That includes some places that don’t look anything like our all-American version. We like to embrace our season, yet some places people almost forget about the actual day because it’s not a holiday at all. It’s the pattern of the Incarnation that is full of grace and truth. It’s a reminder that when the true light came into the world, it filled a night sky over a bunch of shepherds who ran at breakneck speed to worship Jesus.

Yet it’s the same world where Herod took a generation of lives so he could keep his kingly power. Herod lives in our hearts when we think we can make ourselves better if we just try harder, spend a lot, give more, keep control of whatever kingdom we imagine to be in our realm, in essence, atone for our own sins.

Yet the Word prevails. May he prevail in our hearts today and this Christmas. We can't fix what needs to be fixed. There's no celebrating it away. That's good news for all of us—Africa, China, Bhutan, Russia, U.S.—the Light of the World came, comes and will come again in his time—December or April or whenever and forever. Let's celebrate this in our hearts.

Advent. Coming. Amen.

Love in Disguise by Wil Triggs

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When one of my friends moved away from DuPage County, he told me that one thing he didn’t like about living here was that no one just dropped by to say hi.

He grew up in Michigan, where, he said, people commonly just stopped by and knocked on a friend’s door. It wasn’t scheduled. There was no agenda but to say hi. The door opened. Food and talk was shared—just a normal part of life.

When he told me, I had to admit that I guessed it was true.

I generally don’t just knock on someone’s door unannounced, even if it’s a close friend. There have been times when I’ve knocked on my neighbor’s door, but there’s a reason: mail put in the wrong box, a jar of ice cream sauce at Christmas, a gift for their daughter’s First Communion. We’ll visit across the fence or when we’re both shoveling snow. We’ve shared barbecues or parties with them, but it’s always been planned.

So I’m not what anyone might think of as spontaneous when it comes to people dropping by or us dropping by unannounced.

I do recall one time when there was a knock on my door.

It was Sunday. The delayed timer on our oven made it possible for us to roast a chicken while we were at church. We could come home and take most everything out of the oven and refrigerator and sit down to a very nice Sunday lunch in no time.

So it was one of those Sundays when the knock happened.

We had just sat down. Sparkling water with a slice of melon. Golden chicken. Knock. Roasted potatoes. Knock, knock. Green salad. French green beans. Knock, knock, knock. Who could that be? Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Not wanting to be separated from my food, I sighed. I got up from the table and opened the door.

A man was on the other side. I had never seen him before. He wasn't selling anything. He asked for the former owners of the house—actually, two owners before us. We happened to know the couple. I explained that they no longer lived in the home. They had moved away.

Visibly disappointed, the man looked downward, somewhat crestfallen and said nothing.

Now I had a choice. Do I close the door on him?

With the smells of what seemed to me to be a delectable Sunday meal awaiting for me, I thought to myself, What if this man is Jesus in disguise?

I didn’t mean it literally, but I did think of the Scriptures.

So the words came out of my mouth, “We’re just sitting down to lunch. Would you like to join us?”

Did I really just say that?

He looked up, his countenance changing for the better and walked through our door.

Lorraine quickly set another place at the table.

He was hungry. As we ate, he told us his story, and it was a hard one. He was out of work, had no car, was living in a motel on Roosevelt Road that rented by the week and his week was coming to an end. From many years before, when he lived in the Wheaton area on a more permanent basis, the previous owners had befriended him. We knew them from College Church and it was clear from what he said that they had a godly touch of grace with him.

On that Sunday, he was just passing through, headed to what he hoped would be a job that might lead to a place to live and a settling down. He walked the several miles from the motel where he was staying to our home in the hopes of reconnecting with his friends from the past. We told him about our lives, too, and got to talk about faith. Jesus is good, he agreed.

Instead of reconnecting with old friends, I guess he got to make some new friends that day—Lorraine and me. After a leisurely meal, one that lasted longer than normal, with dessert and coffee served one after the other, in the Russian style, we prayed with him, and he prayed with us.

I drove him back to his motel and did my best to help him with a little more. He said thank you. We shook hands and looked in each other’s eyes. I told him I would pray for him.

Years have gone by. I’ve never seen him again.

But you know what? That man blessed us. I’m glad I didn’t close the door. To share our stories, enjoy a meal together and spend time in prayer transformed the afternoon into a sacred time together. People matter.

I think of him at Sunday dinner fairly often. And sometimes, on Thanksgiving, I wonder where he’s at this year.

Who is knocking on the doors of my life this year? Will I open the door?

…thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man!

For he satisfies the longing soul,
and the hungry soul he fills with good things.

Walk, Run, Go

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What does Thanksgiving, a STAMP team and the Dominican Republic have in common?

Many of us may not realize the answer is, "The Turkey Trot." This annual Thanksgiving Day event grows out of our 2013 STAMP team to the DR. It's a beautiful example of how a short-terms missions trip can grow beyond the actual trip itself. As you read this, consider when you've finished something how God might be working in new ways to do more than you expected.

The Turkey Trot began as a fundraiser for the STAMP team six years ago as it headed to the community of Hato del Yaque in the Dominican Republic. “We spent our spring break holding basketball clinics, running a VBS, and serving lunch to kids in the community," explains Barb Nussbaum, a member of that 2013 STAMP team. "A local pastor, Pastor Elido, established a church and wanted to use it holistically to support the community.” explains Barb. After the trip, the team wanted to continue supporting Pastor Elido and this community in tangible ways. But how?

College Church missionary Kyle Bradley, the host for that spring break trip, asked the team to consider “continuing in mission” by raising funds for two full basketball courts behind the church. These courts would allow the church to become even more a gathering center in this community and attract kids to play sports and hear the message of the gospel.

The Turkey Trots in 2014 and 2015 raised funding for the basketball courts. “In 2015, Kyle approached us about installing lights, so the courts could be used day and night. As a result, kids in the community not only learn valuable sports skills, but also, and more importantly, hear the message of Jesus from national missionaries who serve as coaches," points out Barb. "And the lights on the courts? This helps keep kids out of trouble and in a safe community at the church in Hato del Yaque." Meanwhile, Turkey Trot funding has also helped clear a baseball/soccer field in the same community.

Members of that 2013 STAMP team still joyfully "continue in mission" with GO Ministries by hosting the annual Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot—now in its seventh year. Last Thanksgiving more than 250 runners participated in the 5K run/walk at St. James Farm.

"This Thanksgiving, all the money raised will be used to launch an initiative to provide small-scale employment and revenue through GO Ministries’ Kingdom Business area of ministry," Barb explains.

Sometimes it's easy to think that when a missions trip is over and your service ends, that's it. The end. The Turkey Trot, however, reminds us that kingdom service has the potential to grow and bear fruit long after your specific ministry ends. With that in mind, come run with us at St. James Farm on Thanksgiving morning!

TurkeyTrot.jpg

Everyday Heroes by Wil and Lorraine Triggs

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Everyday Heroes

We are writing this from LittWorld 2018 in Singapore. As some of you know, Media Associates International is allowing us to serve with them during this global training event. With delegates from 52+ countries around the world, LittWorld is a treasure trove of Christian communicators coming together for training, encouragement and prayer. When it comes to getting time with people from other parts of the world apart from the specific assignments from MAI, the challenge from the viewpoint of a couple of story-tellers like us is where to start.

This time, news events and our hearts for persecuted people converged. We got to meet with many people from “closed” countries. In fact, the red or green color on our nametags identified whether it was safe to photograph and post on social media.

There were moments when most all of us stopped what we were doing to pray for Pakistan with the news that Asia Bibi was released from prison and riots and protests were breaking out. The people from Pakistan were concerned, eager to get back, to be with their families and stand with their churches.

In smaller groups, and one on one, stories of faith emerged from people who different parts of the world where being a Christian costs something more than it does in Wheaton. We could describe these men and women as courageous and noble people, heroic, like superheroes of the faith, who serve God at all costs no matter what.

But the thing is, that’s not exactly the way they are.

They are humble, ordinary people. They have jobs. They serve in their churches. Some of them embraced communications and media to help their churches or Sunday schools or their fellow believers navigate relationships. They are doing the best with what they have and helping point people to Jesus in diverse circumstances. Some have grieved the loss of loved ones. Some struggle with the health of elderly parents or grandparents. Others face doubts and questions about their lives. They may struggle to make ends meet. Even those who are taking risks are often doing so unnoticed by most of the people around them.

Heroism comes in small ways while we are living our lives. A lot of times that means just taking the next step or speaking grace-filled words into a tense situation or closing the door and praying to the One who sees, hears and answers.

Peter—a LittWorld friend for several years now—said that people often ask him how he could live in such a difficult place for Christ followers. Peter’s reply is that greater is he who is in us than the one who is causing all the chaos and destruction.

Personally, we do think our brothers and sisters like Peter and others we can’t name are heroes (and we can hear them all protesting that no, they’re not), but we also know heroic brothers and sisters at church, who look at chaos or tragedy or loss and declare that greater is he who is in us than he who is in the world.

This is something we can all do in our own ways today.

God of Hope, God of Mercy

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A prayer from A Pastor Prays for His People by Wendell C. Hawley

Faithful God, forgiving God, holy God,
We have your Word, your promise—and we trust in the fact that
the Lord is near to all who call upon him.
to all who call upon him in truth.
We have been invited to ask, to seek, to knock with the promise of an answer,
for we believe you rule over all,
and in your hand is power and might.
So we address our petitions to
the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, worthy to receive honor
and glory for ever and ever.

Father God, we would that our moments of trust were with us always,
but events come into our lives and we are filled with questions.
We need the reinforcement that you have the answers.
We stand mute before inexplicable circumstances, but there are no
mysteries for you.
There are no facts you do not know;
no problems you cannot solve;
no events you cannot explain;
no hypocrisy through which you do not see;
no secrets of ours unknown to you.

We are truly unmasked before you, and you see us as we really are—
filled with our pride,
our selfishness,
our shallowness,
our impatience,
our blatant carnality.
We would despair were it not so that
you, O Lord, are compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.
You have not dealt with us according to our sins,
for as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is your lovingkindness toward those who fear you.

So we crave today
a clean life,
a quiet spirit,
an honest tongue,
a believing heart,
a redeemed soul.
Thank you, God, that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from
all unrighteousness.
Now, may we enjoy you forever!