Wednesday, December 24, 2008

the sacrifice of a son


What does Christmas mean to you? About the time my sons were born, its meaning radically changed for me.

Sons seem to come roaring into the world. They're loud. They tease. They burp. They play mean tricks on their sisters. They attract dirt and hate baths. Before I had kids, I was really a little scared about having even one little boy. I wasn't sure about raising one. God laughed and gave me three boys, one right after the other. I nicknamed them Curly, Larry and Moe. You figure it out.

Our boys won my heart in short order. Bringing me fresh-picked dandelions. Asking me to play trucks or color with them. Writing me little love-notes. "Fixing" things around the house. Holding my face and declaring their love for me. Snuggling on my lap for a story at bedtime. And when they did bathe, they were just so handsome with their wet hair neatly combed.

In contrast to girls, boys put it all out there with no pretending. They tell it like it is. Or they slug their brothers and then everything's good. Like the men they're destined to be, boys get to the task at hand and it's done. They love a challenge and chores can be accomplished by making them into a race. Although they sometimes tried to hide the fact, my boys had tender and compassionate hearts.

Would I ever sacrifice my sons? I mean give them up in a life or death situation? I don't know of a mother who would. Not for a good person and certainly not for an evil one. There's not anything or anyone in this world that could convince me to give up one of my sons.

But God took no convincing. He saw the mess we'd made in this world and devised a plan to save us. Unbelievably, God became man in the form of a tiny baby and was entrusted to a young Jewish couple 2,000 years ago. Unlike the nativity sitting on our piano, God knew his son wouldn't stay in the manger. He'd grow up and in obedience to his father, die a horrible death on a cross for the sins of everyone, for all time.

So the baby in the manger was the beginning, not the end. Christ was a lot of things. But his central purpose was to be the bridge to heaven, to show without a doubt that He's the way to eternal life. (Acts 4:12) As a mother, I can't imagine putting the weight of the world on my sons. But then, I'm not God.

That's what Christmas means to me. And I hope the same for you. I could never sacrifice my Curly, Larry or Moe. That's what makes God so unfathomable and amazing.

Merry Christmas!

1 comment:

DandJHaller said...

Thanks mom for that meaningful sentiment of what Christmas means to you. That is very special. I love you and Merry Christmas!
-Dan