Friday, December 29, 2006


This week I have had a little higher awareness of stories in life and their relation to scripture. This is a simple story of sacrifice ... it just hit the spot.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

There is a story told of a young boy whose older brother was in a car crash. The father approached the younger son shortly after the crash and said, "Son, if you will, you older brother needs a blood transfusion in order to live. The doctors have determined that only you can provide this blood . Will you provide blood for your brother so that he may live?" The younger son did not hesitate in aswering he would indeed help his older brother. Unknown to the little boy was the relative simplicity and safety of the procedure.

The car ride to the hospital was unusually quiet for this normally very talkative little boy. The father, at the same time in the most awkward and difficult position of his entire life, thought best to leave the young boy to his own thoughts. The father and young boy entered the now familiar doors of the town hospital. As the father and son sat in the hospital room, the nurse entered with the needle in hand. She commented how courageous the young boy was, prepared the boys right arm as she had done to hundreds of other patients over the years, and slowly inserted the needle into his arm ; the vial began to quickly fill with the young boys blood. After the vial filled, the young boy, with tears in his eyes, turned to his father and asked, "Daddy, how long do I now have before I die?"

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13


Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Who Are You, Little Boy?

Who Are You, Little Boy?
by Dr. Ralph F. Wilson

Who are you, little boy,
Who fills my womb with promise,
That an angel announced your coming?
Who are you whom the Spirit conceived in me?

Who are you, little boy,
Who grows within my betrothed
That in a dream God should call me?
Who are you for whom I am taking Mary as wife?

Who are you, little boy,
That angels chant your praise to mere shepherds?
Who are you for whom I rush down hills to town?
Who are you whom I seek in a manger?

Who are you, little boy?
Are you the promised one
For whom we've hoped and prayed and longed?
Have you come at last?

Who are you, little boy
Who fills my stable with groans of birth,
Then cries of joy and fresh-filled lungs?
Who are you that shepherds should kneel in my barn?

Who are you, little boy
That a star illuminates your birth?
Who are you to beckon old men with eastern lore
To travel far and fall at your feet?

Who are you, little boy,
Whom wise men seek in court as king?
Who are you to usurp my claim to rule my world?
Who are you, fearsome, fragile Messiah-boy?

Who are you, little boy,
Whose glory I have seen,
Who uncurls woodshavings near my bench?
Who sweeps and sands, and loves a stand-in father?

Who are you, little boy,
Who challenges scribes beyond our knowing?
Who weighs our answers, probes our doubts?
Who are you to call these golden halls, "My Father's House"?

Who are you, little boy,
Who heals and teaches and loves?
Who breaks time-honored rules without shame?
Who generates such wonder within?

Who are you, little boy,
Who wounds your mother's heart?
For whom do you suffer, if innocent?
What do you mean, "It is finished!" when you die?

Who are you, little boy,
Who comes into my world?
Do I know? Perhaps, but let me ask again:
Who you are, little boy?

Imagine the cloud

Monday, December 25, 2006

Before ...

The Lord says, "Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear."

-Isaiah 65:24

Tonight, if you need hope... ask, He has already taken care of it.

The Last Christmas Tree

The Last Christmas Tree

I saw a truck of Christmas trees
And each one had a tale,
The driver stood them in a row
And put them up for sale.

He strung some twinkly lights
And hung a sign up with a nail;
It said in red

He poured himself hot cocoa
In a steaming thermos cup,
And snowflakes started falling
As a family car pulled up.

A mom, a dad, and one small boy
Who looked no more than three
Jumped out and started searching
For the perfect Christmas tree.

The boy marched up and down the rows,
His nose high in the air;
"It smells like Christmas, mom!
"It smells like Christmas everywhere!"

"Let's get the biggest tree we can!
"A tree that's ten miles high!
"A tree to go right through our roof!
"A tree to touch the sky!"

"A tree SO big
"That Santa Claus
"Will stop and stare and say,
"'Now, THAT'S the finest Christmas tree
"'I've seen this Christmas Day!'"

It seemed they looked at every tree
At least three million times;
Dad shook them, pinched them, turned them 'round
To find the perfect pine.

"I've found it, mom!
"The Christmas tree I like the best of all!
"It's got a little bare spot,
"But we'll turn that to the wall!"

"We'll put great-grandma's angel
"On top the highest bough!
"Oh, can we buy it?
"Please, mom, PLEASE?!
"Oh, can we buy it NOW?"

"How 'bout some nice hot cocoa?"
Asked the man who owned the lot.
He twisted off the thermos top,
"Now, THIS will hit the spot!"

He poured the steaming chocolate
In three tiny paper cups.
They toasted,
"Here's to Christmas!"
And they drank the cocoa up.

"Is this your choice?"
The tree man asked,
"This pine's the best one here!"
The boy seemed sad---
"My daddy says
"The price is just too dear."

"Then, Merry Christmas!"
Said the man, who wrapped the tree in twine,
"It's yours for just one promise
"You must keep at Christmas time!"

"On Christmas Eve at bedtime
"As you fold your hands to pray,
"Promise in your heart
"To keep the joy of Christmas Day!"

"Now hurry home!
This freezy wind
"Is turning your cheeks pink!
"And ask your dad
"To trim that trunk and give that tree a drink!"

And so it went on
All that blustery eve
As the tree man gave
Tree upon tree upon tree

To every last person
Who came to the lot---
Who toasted with cocoa
In small paper cups,

Who promised the promise
Of joy in their hearts---
And singing out carols,
Drove off in the dark.

And when it was over
One tree stood alone;
But no one was left there
To give it a home.

The tree man put on his
Red parka and hood
And dragged the last Christmas tree
Out to the woods.

He left the pine right by a stream
In the cold,
So the wood's homeless creatures
Could make it their home.

He smiled as he brushed off
Some snow from his beard,
When out of the thicket
A reindeer appeared.

He scratched that huge reindeer
On top his huge head---
"It looks like we've
"Started up Christmas again!"

"There are miles more to travel,
"And much more to do!
"Let's go home, my friend,
"And get started anew!"

He looked to the sky
And heard jingle bells sound---
And then,
In a twinkling,
That tree man was gone!

©1992 Howard D. Fencl

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Family Christmas

Oh man....

Christmas Poem #6 - Once in David's City...

Once in Royal Davids city

Once in royal Davids city,

Stood a lowly cattle shed,

Where a mother laid her Baby,

In a manger for His bed:

Mary was that mother mild,

Jesus Christ, her little Child.

He came down to earth from heaven,

Who is God and Lord of all,

And His shelter was a stable,

And His cradle was a stall:

With the poor, and mean, and lowly,

Lived on earth our Saviour holy.

For He is our childhood's pattern;

Day by day, like us, He grew;

He was little, weak, and helpless,

Tears and smiles, like us He knew;

And He cares when we are sad,

And he shares when we are glad.

And our eyes at last shall see Him,

Through His own redeeming love;

For that Child so dear and gentle,

Is our Lord in heaven above:

And He leads His children on,

To the place where He is gone.

Once in Royal Davids city!
The words to the carol Once in Royal Davids city were written by Mrs. C.F. Alexander ( 1818 - 1895 ) and makes wonderful use of the English language to paint a picture of the events of the nativity. Mrs. Alexander wrote many poems for children, chiefly on religious subjects and was the wife of the Bishop of Derry. The music to Once in Royal Davids city was composed by H.J. Gauntlett. This carol is believed to have first been published in the early nineteenth century