I always look forward to it as one of the season's great Christmas moments - the lighting of that towering Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.

This year's going to be different. Just a tad more exciting. Because I have sort of a second-hand personal connection this time.

The tree comes from the farm owned by our good friends' daughter and son-in-law. As I write this, our friends are waiting to be chauffeured to ringside (actually rink-side) seats for the big doin's. So I'll not just be watching the tree and the performers - hey, I've got friends on the front row!

Apparently, the NBC "tree scouts" are looking for evergreen candidates year-round. And one of them spotted this one, driving down Interstate 80 in Pennsylvania. It was readily visible from the highway - and he liked what he saw.

In the months leading up to the tree being cut down, "treeologists" (?) would come with a large tractor trailer full of nutrients for Mr. Spruce. They wanted to be sure he was in good health for his moment of glory!

Rachel, our friends' daughter, describes herself as a "big Christmas elf." She said the giant tree was the only thing at her home she didn't decorate for Christmas. And now it's going to be decorated bigtime for all the world to see! She's slightly excited.

I suppose our friends have viewed the lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree as we always have. A nice Christmas event. But not this year. No, this year it goes from being just an event to an unforgettable personal experience!

And thinking about that suddenly rang a bell loudly somewhere in my heart.

Because the whole Christmas thing can be much the same. A warm, cuddly event, inspired by the familiar story of that baby born in a Bethlehem manger.

But it's more than that for me. The event became a life-changing personal experience.

When I realized the ultimate meaning of the events that night in Bethlehem, I saw it's all about the tree.

In a sense, the shadow of that tree looms over the starlight in the manger. This Child is here on a mission. A rescue mission.

And that mission will take Him, 33 years later, to the tree. A Roman cross on a skull-shaped hill.

"He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree," the Bible says.

Christmas was for a cross. The place where the Baby of Bethlehem would become the Savior of the world. By taking on Himself the death penalty for human sin. "He bore . . . on the tree" every hurting thing, every dirty thing, every selfish thing, every angry thing, every wrong thing of every person who ever lived.

For a time, the horrific death of Jesus Christ on a cross was just an event to me. Remembered on Good Friday. A belief to be believed. A religious symbol.

But one day it became so much more. It went from an event to the most profound personal experience of my life. When it hit me. "What's happening on that cross is . . . well, for me. For the sinning I've done. For the punishment I deserve."

And that's the day I was given a ringside seat at the Tree. When my heart melted at the love this Jesus has for me. Enough to die for me.

I enthroned Him that day, not as just the Savior - but as my Savior.

And that changed everything. As it has - as it will - for anyone who makes what happened on that Tree "for me."

Christmas begins at a stable. Life begins at the Tree.