Community Church Sermons
December 24, 2008
Christmas Eve 7 PM
Luke 2:1-7
Rev. Rhonda Abbott Blevins
“There came wise men from the east to Jerusalem. And when they
were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and
fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they
presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh.”
Matthew 2:1b, 11
When Christmastime comes around each year, I
find myself thinking about the notion of gift-giving. Inspired by the wise men
of long ago who brought gifts to the baby Jesus, we give gifts to one another.
Like most folks, my husband and I try to buy nice presents for the people we
care about. I’m excited about the block set we bought for our little boy
because I think he’ll love it; I finally think I have a winner with the digital
frame we bought for my mom. Even though we’ve done our best to please folks
with what lies beneath the wrapping paper, I know that in a short while my
little boy will be bored with his blocks and my mom will have yet one more item
to dust.
Christmas gift giving is a wonderful tradition,
but each December I become frustrated with the material and temporal nature of
the presents we give. My frustration prompts me to think about more significant
gifts we can offer at Christmastime. This year I have been thinking about
forgiveness: the gift of letting go.
Journey with me through two true stories of forgiveness.
True
Story #1
John was just a kid during the Christmas of 1949. His family didn’t have a
Christmas tree that year. His mother said they couldn’t afford one and even if
they could it was stupid to clutter up your house with a dead tree. But John,
in his naïveté, thought that if they only had a tree that everyone would feel
better.
Young John had a paper route, and he had a
customer who hadn’t paid for a couple of months. He decided to swing by and
collect, and to his surprise, the customer was there, she paid her bill, and
even gave him a tip! Eight whole dollars!
On his way home John passed by a Christmas tree
lot and decided to take a look. Being so close to the holiday the trees had
been picked through, but there was one very nice tree left. It had been a very
expensive tree, but Christmas day was fast approaching and the salesman was
motivated. When John offered his eight dollars, the man agreed, and John drug
his prize home.
John was so proud! He couldn’t wait for his
parents to see it. He propped the tree up on the front porch, and went inside
bursting with joy as he announced that he had surprise. When his mom and dad
came to the door, he switched on the porch light.
“Where did you get that tree?” exclaimed his
mother, obviously upset.
John described how he was able to purchase the
tree with money from his paper route.
“You spent the whole eight dollars on this
tree?” she remarked.
His mom went into a tirade about how stupid it
was to spend money on a dumb tree that would be thrown out and burned in a few
days. She told him he was irresponsible, like his father, with foolish notions
about fairy tales and happy endings. She preached about “getting some sense”
and not spending money on silly things. As John began to cry, his mother
snapped off the porch light, stormed up the stairs, and didn’t come down until
the next day.
John and his father brought the tree in and
tried to decorate it. By Christmas day there were some presents under the tree,
but his mother didn’t participate. He remembers the Christmas of 1949 as the
worst ever.
John grew up and had a family of his own. After
his dad died, his mother came to stay with him and his family during the
holidays. Often at Christmastime, John remembered that terrible Christmas of
long ago. He found himself brushing away the haunting memory that particular
Christmas Eve. He couldn’t sleep, so he was reading in the living room. His mom
couldn’t sleep either, so she got up to make some tea. They began to talk as
the tea brewed. John told his mom he was glad she was with them for Christmas,
and that he wished his dad could have seen his grandchildren enjoy the season
because he always loved Christmas so much.
His mom became quiet, and finally said, “Do you
remember when you bought a Christmas tree with your paper route money?” John
confessed he did. His mom hesitated for a moment as years of pain rose up from
the depths to the surface until tears streamed down her face.
“Son, please forgive me” she cried.
“That Christmas has been a burden on my heart for 25 years. I wish your dad
were here so I could tell him how sorry I am for what I said that night.”
She described how stressed she had
been that Christmas, how they were two months behind on their house payments,
how they had no money for groceries, and how she and his father were fighting
all the time. She confessed, “I took it all out on you. It doesn’t make it
right, but I hoped that someday you would understand. I’ve wanted to say
something for so long.”
John and his mom cried as they held
each other. He forgave his mother that night. John says that the bitterness and
sadness inside him all those years gradually washed away.[1]
True
Story #2
I asked my friend, one of our own church members, if I could
tell her story about growing up in a house with an abusive father. Every Friday
when the whistle blew, her father started drinking, and the liquor made the
demons come out. After a couple of drinks he would come home in an angry rage,
unleashing hell onto their mother verbally and sometimes physically. When one
of the kids would step in to protect their mother, they’d get their own dose of
abuse as well. She dreaded every weekend, because it would be the same thing
again. Drinking on Friday and Saturday, unleashing hell at home, pleading for
forgiveness on Sunday while he sobered up to get ready for another week at
work.
She talks about how she tried to protect her
younger siblings, and how she couldn’t wait to get away from home. When she
grew up, she carried not only resentment for her father, but outright hatred.
That hatred, she admits, affected her own marriage and her own family. She says
that she was never at peace with herself because deep down, she hated her
father.
Her father grew older along the way, too. He
grew ill. Her mother was unable to care for him; her siblings couldn’t find it
in themselves to provide much care. It was my friend who bore the burden of
caring for her ailing father. But there was that nagging hatred for all of the
misery he caused her and her whole family throughout her entire childhood. She
couldn’t provide the care he needed while simultaneously carrying that kind of
hatred inside her.
She said, “I couldn’t handle it with my dad.
This love/hate relationship.” I asked her what changed. She said, “God told me
to get over it.”
Over the course of a few days, she made two
lists. First she made a list of everything good about her father. She wrote
down things about him being a good provider for their family, about how he
never missed a day of work. She filled a sheet of paper with her father’s good
qualities.
Then she made another list on a separate sheet
of paper. She wrote down everything she hated about her father. She wrote down
every abusive thing he had said and done. Every miserable deed she could
remember. She wrote it all down. Every ugly thing.
After a day or two and much prayer, she ripped
up the sheet of ugliness. Ripped it to shreds. She forgave her father that day
for everything he had ever done. Then she gave him the care of a loving
daughter during his last years on earth.
She said, “It gave me such a peace to be able to
see the good in him. Now I don’t even think about the bad. I only think of the
good.”
“It gave me such a peace,” she said. The gift of
forgiveness here was not only a gift to her father, but a gift to herself as
well. “It gave me such a peace,” she said. And so it goes with the gift of letting go.
Do you have a gift to give this Christmas?
[1] Adapted from John William Smith, “The Gift of Forgiveness,” Men Today Online. http://mentodayonline.com/christmas/forgiveness.html