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The birth of Christ, one of the two greatest events of all time, was not marked by the extraordinary, except Caesar Augustus did issue “a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world,” which necessitated everyone to go “to his own town to register.” And Magi from the east did “see a star” in the east and traveled far to worship the “one who has been born king of the Jews.”

But most did not notice when “the word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

How was an inn keeper to know that the child about to be born “came from the Father, full of grace and truth”? If he had, would he have provided the one who was “with God in the beginning” a better birthplace than a stable, a better cradle than a manger? The chief priests and teachers of the law knew the prophecy, however, and exactly where the Christ would be born. I would guess indifference, not ignorance, kept them from following the Magi to Bethlehem to kneel before Immanuel.

But some experienced incarnation, and they worshipped.


Thanksgiving on Thursday—love it. Then Black Friday—what a horrible thought! The way-too-much-to-do usually begins the day after Thanksgiving. Or is the Christmas holiday stressful for only me?


I mentioned last week that I sing my grandchildren to sleep, or did when they were younger. These days it happens only on special occasions and by request.

A contender with “In Moments Like These” is the song I began singing when I was working on a speech from the great blessing chapter of the Old Testament, Psalm 103. I leaned over in church this morning and whispered to my visiting granddaughter Mariah, “That’s the song I’m writing about next week!”



I have six grandchildren, and when they were young and stayed with their “Ma” and Papa, they liked for me to sing them to sleep.

My primary lullaby has always been “In Moments like These.” The kids say they’ll gather around and sing it at my funeral. I’ll take their word for it.