“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”
Possibly the most meaningful tradition any family could practice every year at Christmas is the reading of the Christmas story. I hear it a few times during the Christmas season –my family reads it at least once as a family every year, our pastor reads it at the Christmas Eve service we attend every year, and I’ll read it to myself on the days leading up to Christmas to keep my mind focused on the true meaning of the season. This year, however, when someone I love dearly has told me they don’t believe in God or His Son, reading the Christmas Story has become even more meaningful. I physically ache for my friend who has lost their way, doubting the One who loves them more than any other person on this earth. I pray daily for my friend, desperately desiring for them to know the love that God showed that night over 2,000 years ago when He sent His Son down to earth as a child, born not as a king, but as a carpenter’s son, willing to take on our sings, to experience the agony of seperation with His Father, The Most High God, so that we might spend eternity with Him. He loved us more than we could possibly comprehend. I pray my friend can understand this. I pray they can understand why the Christmas story is more than just a simple story, more than just a silly tradition.