It's one of those magical Christmas moments - not just for New York City, where it happens, but for millions across the country who watch it on TV. Each year Rockefeller Center puts up a massive Christmas tree, you know. And for a while, it just stands there in total darkness. And then, in that special Christmas moment, the lights suddenly go on, the tree comes to life, and the celebrating begins.
Our friend told us that her youngest child, Ralphie, was like "Mr. Christmas" at their house. Very early every Christmas morning, he was everyone's alarm clock to get up and get going on those presents. That's what made this one Christmas so strange. Two weeks earlier, Ralphie was doing a little exploring in the closets while his parents were gone, and he found where they had hidden their presents! He couldn't resist. He opened this one bag and he saw the major gift they had bought him. And then came Christmas. Everyone slept later than they ever had on a Christmas morning because Ralphie didn't get up. Everyone was waiting impatiently around the Christmas tree, so Dad called up the stairs, "Ralphie, are you coming?" "Yeah," Ralphie replied. All the other kids were psyched as they opened their gifts. Not Ralphie. He opened his with little emotion, sort of a halfhearted thanks. Dad took him aside and said, "Ralphie, are you sick, man? You're always Mr. Christmas around here!" Ralphie explained why his "joy to the world" had gone. "Dad, the problem is I opened my gift early, and I ruined Christmas."
Over the years, we've always tried to keep the real mission and meaning of Christmas in front of our children. Taking food and clothes into New York City to give to homeless people there put a whole new face on Christmas. Only a few miles from our home we were face-to-face with the tragedy of people without anyplace to call home. I remember the time when I went into the city to talk with some homeless people for my youth broadcast - to try to open my listeners to a needy world. One man was living on the street, near a major bus terminal. His house was a large, tattered cardboard box. He actually allowed me to crawl inside that box with him, and it was heartbreaking that a box was home. At Christmastime - well, at any time - it's a tragic thing to be without a home.
Sometimes you find something spiritually thought provoking in the strangest places. Like in a rerun of an old episode of the hit sitcom, "Everybody Loves Raymond." A friend was watching it and said, "You've got to come and watch this." Ray was trying to have that most dreaded conversation of all for many parents. You know, the one about where babies come from. Unfortunately, today's kids are just too smart to buy that old stork thing. Why must the media make our jobs harder, right? Ray is sitting on his daughter's bed, doing his best to get into the subject of s-e-x. At the foot of the bed he has four books open to the pages that he hopes will help. And then his daughter throws him a curve ball. She says, "Daddy, I don't care about how we got here." Ray looks surprised and very relieved. "I want to know why God put us here." Dad's expression is priceless. It's a combination of bewilderment and "let me out of here." She continues to press the question. Now, he's obviously wishing they could talk about the birds and the bees! He's stunned and he's stumped. Finally he fumbles his way into the only answer he can think of: "Well, honey, sometimes it gets... Well, it gets really crowded in heaven, so God sends some down here." Now his daughter's expression is a combination of bewilderment and "let me out of here."
Centuries ago, Tyre was one of the greatest cities of the Middle East, strategically located on the Mediterranean Sea...until it was leveled by a foreign invader. Actually, there was an ancient Biblical prophecy that Tyre would not only be leveled, which was unimaginable at that time, but that the site would be so swept of Tyre's rubble that fishermen would one day lay their nets there to dry. The city was gone, but the rubble still remained until Alexander the Great came along. By that time, Tyre had moved to an island offshore, confident that they would now be unreachable by a future invader. They underestimated Alexander. He ordered his engineers to use the rubble of the old city to build a causeway to the island, and that's what they did. And Alexander and his army marched across the bridge that was made from rubble and won what seemed to be an impossible victory. So the site of ancient Tyre was, in fact, swept clean. And in modern times, fishermen have - well, you probably guessed -dried their nets where the city once was.
I don't believe in ghosts - for the most part. There's one kind of ghosts that are all too real. They talked about those "ghosts" in the movie, "Amazing Grace." That movie told the story of the 18th-Century British political leader, William Wilberforce. He's really more than any other man, responsible for the abolishing of slavery in the British Empire. And that was at a time when African slaves played a critical role in the British economy and slave-owning interests controlled many members of Parliament. The battle took twenty years, but ultimately thousands of slaves went free. Wilberforce's spiritual mentor was actually the man who wrote America's most beloved hymn, "Amazing Grace." In his early years, John Newton had been a slave trader, capturing and carrying thousands of Africans to slavery in Britain. Conditions were so brutal that many didn't even survive the voyage. Then John Newton discovered how Jesus Christ can forgive and change a man. In the movie, John Newton is going blind but he's still pastoring a church in London. And he believed in "ghosts" you might say. As he dictates what he calls "My Confession" to a scribe, he says, "I have lived for years with the company of 20,000 ghosts - those I made into slaves. Their blood is on my hands."
Scotty had been begging his dad to play hide-and-seek with him for a couple of hours. Finally, Dad finished what he was doing and jumped into the game. He said, "Scotty, you count to 50 while I hide somewhere in the house." It took the little guy a while to count to that big number, but he finally got there. He began right there in the living room, looking behind all the curtains and the big furniture. No daddy. He looked in the dining room, the bathroom, the closets, the kitchen. No daddy. Which meant his father was hiding upstairs. Scotty was disappointed after he looked in the guest bedroom, the bathroom, and the master bedroom upstairs. Still no daddy. He knew there was only one place left to look; that big, dark closet in the master bedroom. Apprehensively, he slowly opened the door to that long old closet with the light switch he couldn't reach. He looked to the right. No daddy. He looked to the left, RRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Suddenly, there was a big grizzly bear, growling and coming at him. He ran as fast as his little legs would go; out of the bedroom, down the stairs, all the way through the downstairs until he was stopped by the locked door of the kitchen. That's when the growling bear caught him, grabbed him in his paws and hugged him! This was no bear trying to hurt him. This was his Daddy wanting to hold him.
Our family has had many great times by the Atlantic Ocean, along the New Jersey Shore. Over the years, we found a little tool that was smart to have if you were going to be spending time next to the ocean. They call it a tide table. It tells you what time high tide and low tide will be each day. That's good to know, especially if you're going to really set up shop for a while on the beach - which many people do. I've watched people bring their own little civilization to the beach with them: tarps and coolers and toys and appliances. You'd think they were planning to live on the beach. What's kind of fun to watch is the people with all that stuff who fall asleep somewhere between low tide and high tide. Slowly but surely, the waves start creeping up from the edge toward their civilization. You really should wake them up, but that wouldn't be any fun. Eventually, as the tide tickles their toes, they wake up only to find some of their civilization about to float away. It's panic city, man! But it didn't have to be that way. See, there's this little tool called a tide table that tells you when the tide...well, you get the idea.
My granddaughter obviously got her grace and coordination from me. She must have. Somebody's got mine, because I sure don't! She demonstrated some of that grace and coordination recently in a dance recital she was in with other four and five-year-olds. They actually had two little performances in one day. The first was in a little roped-off area in a small shopping mall. It was cute. That night, they did their real recital. Except this time it was on a big stage. You could tell the girls were excited and maybe a little intimidated when the curtain went up. And there was an audience of adoring fans: Moms and Dads, and Grandmas and Grandpas. I was thinking, "Well, I already saw this this morning. I'm here to support my granddaughter, though." Excuse me. They did the same numbers, but not the same way! They moved all over the stage like birds that had been let out of their cage. I realized that their morning performance had been on such a small stage that they could only do small things. But now they were showing what they really could do!
I guess it might be nice to own a copy of the Declaration of Independence. It's not on my top ten list of things I'd like to have, but if it's cheap, why not? That's what one man thought when he bought a copy of the Declaration in a thrift store. He spent a whopping $2.48. Such a deal! It turns out what he bought for $2.48 is one of 200 copies John Quincy Adams had made in 1823. It's going on sale soon. It's expected to sell for a quarter of a million dollars!
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