The boy persisted. “Please, Jacob. I won’t laugh at you. I promise. I really want to hear the story.”

The old man finally answered. “No matter, [...]]]> They sat side by side on the hillside, silently gazing into the starry sky. Finally, the boy spoke. “Would you tell me about that night, Jacob?” The old man said nothing.

The boy persisted. “Please, Jacob. I won’t laugh at you. I promise. I really want to hear the story.”

The old man finally answered. “No matter, Peter. The laughing doesn’t bother me anymore. My thoughts just don’t come as quickly as they did 70 years ago.”

“So it’s been that long? Seventy years?”

“More than 70. I was about your age. Just a lad. But I remember clearly… as if it were last night.” He stared nowhere in particular, his mind lost in another time.

“And the others with you, Jacob? Were they older?”

“Yes. I was the youngest—and probably the most afraid.”

Peter paused a moment, then whispered. “Tell me. Please.”

Soft words came at last. “We were alone on the hillside, watching over our sheep. Just as you and I are tonight. Then instantly, like a lightning bolt from heaven, an angel stood among us. His blazing clothing blinded us and lit up the whole hillside….”

The old man paused as the boy interrupted, each thought tumbling over the next. “Did the angel speak to you, Jacob? What did he say? Were you frightened?

Jacob was sober in his recollection, as one who had told the story many times, often to mocking and ridicule.

“Though he told us not to be afraid, his appearance terrified us. Even Eli, who seemed as big as Goliath to me, could barely stand up afterwards. And the angel’s message stunned us. After thousands of years, the Messiah had finally come! But He would not be the king we were expecting. Instead, we would find him lying in manger in a stable in Bethlehem. It didn’t make sense.”

Peter could hardly utter his next question. “Then what happened, Jacob?”

“Then the heavens exploded with countless other angels—all singing and praising God. But like the light from a snuffed candle, they suddenly disappeared, leaving us in darkness again.”

“It was then you went to Bethlehem?”

“Yes. We knew we must seek the Child and see if what the angel had said was true. Eli took off first, and I struggled to keep up as best my short legs could. We ran from stable to stable until we found the Child—exactly as the angel had described.”

“Jacob, the boys in the village say you dreamed all these things.”

“Yes, I’ve heard their foolish talk. But they are mistaken. We all saw the Child… and touched Him. Flesh and blood are no dream.”

“They say you are just an old man who makes up tales about the Child to sound important. All of the other shepherds you claim were with you have been dead for many years, and there is no one left alive to prove your story. They call you ‘The Last Shepherd’ to make fun of you.”

“It is true that I am very old and have outlived all the others who ran to Bethlehem that night. But I am not The Last Shepherd, Peter.”

“What do you mean, Jacob? You said that the others were dead.”

“They are indeed. But there was another shepherd in the stable that night who still lives. He is The Last Shepherd.”

“But how can there be another shepherd, Jacob? I don’t understand.”

“The Child, Peter. The Child. Do you know what He called himself when He grew up?”

“Yes! Now I remember! He once said, ‘I am the Good Shepherd!’”

“He is also the Last Shepherd, for no other shepherd will ever come after Him to guard and protect His flock.”

“But how can He prove your story since he’s not here?”

“Tell me, Peter. How do you get your sheep to come to you?”

“I call them by name, and they come because they know my voice. First one, then another, until all are safely in the fold.”

“Exactly. And everyone who sees them respond to your call knows for certain you must be their shepherd. Is that not so? And so it is today with The Last Shepherd. He calls His sheep one by one, and as they hear their names they go to Him in heaven. But a day is coming when He will call all that remain, and the entire flock will go to Him at once. Then those who disbelieve will begin to understand.”

“I think I see, Jacob, but when will this happen?”

“I don’t know, lad. I don’t know. But with each passing year, I long more and more to hear my name called. I hope it’s on a night much like tonight, here on the hillside, gazing into the heavens and guarding our sheep. Then I will go to Him.”

“Could it be tonight, Jacob?”

“Yes, lad. It could be tonight.” And they lay back on the grass… listening… as if trying to hear a distant voice.

—–
“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

Copyright 2011 James McAlister

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Then one ordinary day a stranger unexpectedly visited these [...]]]> A long time ago, further back than anyone can remember, a kind and wise king ruled a happy, contented people. His subjects loved him greatly, and he met their every need. In return, the king asked only that they obey him. And for a while they did.

Then one ordinary day a stranger unexpectedly visited these people. Grand in appearance but sly in purpose, he spoke beautiful, compelling words to encourage them to disobey their king. And he made deceitful promises he could never keep. The people listened carefully–before doing exactly as the stranger asked.

But as soon as they disobeyed the wise king, a surprising change confronted them. No longer free as they once had been, they suddenly found themselves enslaved by a harsh master–the stranger!

With great sadness the wise king unfolded the consequences of their disobedience: pain and suffering would be their constant companions.

Still, he did not leave them without hope. “In the fullness of time I will send a powerful new king to break the stranger’s grip on you. Watch constantly for your deliverer, for you do not what day or hour he will come. Unlike other kings, he will be lowly and meek and will not be clothed in regal garments. But you will come to know him by his name.”

A cruel taskmaster, the stranger continually encouraged the people to do all the evils the wise king had warned them against. As their suffering intensified, so did their longing for the deliverer who would release them from the stranger’s prison.

But the deliverer did not come in their lifetimes… or their children’s… or their grandchildren’s. Centuries slipped away, but from time to time the wise king would send reminders that he had not forgotten. The deliverer would come… one day.

Then on a night much like any other night, the heavens exploded with myriads of angels giving glory to God. The deliverer had indeed been born in a stable not far away, and shepherds raced to find this promised king. But as they had been told, they saw no king they recognized–just a baby in a humble manger.

But the wise king was proven right. They would come to know the promised one by his name–a Majestic Name that would thoroughly break the stranger’s powerful hold on them… and their children… and their grandchildren.

Of this Majestic Name, the Bible (Philippians 2:9-11) says, “Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

And because of the Majestic Name we remember at each Christmas season, hope will always be ours… and our children’s… and our grandchildren’s… forever.

MAJESTIC NAME

When time was full, the world had long been waiting
For God to send the One anticipated.
Of lowly birth, He set aside His glory.
The Son of God fulfilled redemption’s story.

As shepherds watched, the moment unsuspected,
God’s glory shown, and hope was resurrected!
Heavenly choirs poured praise and adorations!
Jesus was born a Savior for the nations!

Though sin had reigned, unchallenged in dominion,
A Babe had come in pow’rful opposition
To rule as King o’er all who would permit Him,
Redeeming souls and making life worth living.

(Refrain)
Majestic Name, above all others towers!
Majestic Name, that’s limitless in power!
At Jesus’ name, all knees will bend in honor
And call Him Lord to glorify the Father.

Copyright 2002 James McAlister

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Curiously, I recall but one Christmas present of my own [...]]]> I gaze at two differing pictures of Christmas. The first, a photograph my wife discovered tucked away in an old book, hints of the 1940s. It's Christmas morning, and five smiling children radiate the pleasure of having a few simple gifts arrayed before them, fully satisfied.

Curiously, I recall but one Christmas present of my own childhood.

Pulling three cars around the shiny oval, the black engine in that Lionel electric train set sported both headlight and puffing smokestack. And the odd mixture of high-pitched whine tempering the clickety-clacking metal-to-metal crunch of wheel on track thrilled this young lad immensely.

But the engine unexpectedly ground to a halt shortly thereafter. Today I suspect its cataclysmic demise derived from my incessant determination to see how fast I could propel it around curves without jumping the track as it often did.

Perhaps anticipating my future engineering career, I immediately initiated exploratory disassembly to resolve the malfunction. Finding nothing, reassembly left several screws and gears without homes. After observing a respectable period of mourning, Mother decisively tossed out the box of useless hardware. My toy brought no more happiness.

Without doubt, the children in the first picture eventually experienced similar disappointments with their toys. Interestingly, the first picture and its gifts actually exist in commemoration of a second picture–one abiding not in my hand, but in my mind–and a gift that never disappoints.

In this other picture, a small knot of men lounge on a grassy slope, gazing into the starry night. Devout in worship, they have oft considered–and assuredly murmured in prayer–those things perceived to bring enduring happiness. Their prayers found unique fulfillment that night.

For in one glorious instant, God drew back the veil between two worlds, allowing them to momentarily peer into His eternal inner sanctum. And they gazed in wonder upon the Babe who would eventually become the Man, realizing not that the Man would give even greater gifts than those they had thoughtfully, fervently, carefully articulated in their prayers.

They had long cried out for relief from Roman oppression; the Man would instead release them from the rule of sin in their hearts. They had daily desired food for sheep and families; the Man would instead lead them to green pastures and still waters for their souls.

Our finite minds formulate plans and schemes, and we ask for this and that, positive that having our requests satisfied will assure lasting happiness. But every toy has a way of disappointing, of breaking, of jumping track.

Far better is the gift we neither expect nor deserve; the gift that salves the deep hurts and wide chasms that none but the Man can discern. And the essence of His gift to us–the gift of Himself–lies in a simple phrase He once spoke: "Go your way. Your faith has made you whole."

And in this spirit of this wholeness, both seemingly incongruous pictures of Christmas smoothly reconcile into a single inescapable conclusion: there is but one true Gift and one true giver–and they are one.

Copyright 2003 James McAlister

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It was Christmas, and a young couple was decorating their first Christmas tree. The last on the lot, the 50-cent price was probably too much.

The five handmade ornaments were hardly fancy… and perhaps oversized for such a [...]]]> The doors of our time machine slowly opened. We cautiously entered, soon to find ourselves in a bygone day.

It was Christmas, and a young couple was decorating their first Christmas tree. The last on the lot, the 50-cent price was probably too much.

The five handmade ornaments were hardly fancy… and perhaps oversized for such a small tree. Cut from paper, a gaily-colored Christmas ball hung on a lower limb, balanced by a paper star a bit higher up. Sandwiched between them were other paper creations: a duck and a kitten. A little angel topped the tree. Crafted from a plastic spoon, frayed cloth and more paper, her painted-on face radiated the joy of that first Christmas.

Meager finances didn't allow twinkling lights, so a small table lamp cast its glow on the little tree. The husband was struggling to make things "just so" when the scene abruptly changed. The time machine had moved ahead–to yet another Christmas.

Excited about decorating his first tree, a small boy was digging through dusty boxes. Then strung with the bright lights and glittering ornaments he pulled from them, the stately tree became a wonderland.

Curiously out of place, however, were five timeworn ornaments. "Dad, what are these for?" His parents then tenderly described their first Christmas together. We watched this scene of boy and box replay year by year as the time machine steadily crept on. Suddenly it lurched, transporting us to a Christmas many years future.

Children squealed with delight as their parents and grandparents helped them rifle through the now-familiar dusty boxes. But like their father before them, they had questions. "Grandpa, what are these old paper ornaments?" Grandpa explained, "They tell a very special story about the true spirit of Christmas. They remind us that we can be content with very little, and the greatest treasures in life–love, joy and peace–are free."

Once back in the present, I was grateful for the lack of material possessions our first Christmas together. But the tradition born that year is but a shadow of another birth–on the very first Christmas ever.

For on that day, Jesus left the splendor of heaven to occupy a lowly stable. Though not announced to kings, His birth was heralded by angels to shepherds. "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord." And He has promised to freely give the most important treasures in life–love, joy and peace–to all who would ask.

As the "time machine" of our lives continues to slowly inch forward, earthly fortunes may wax and wane. But because of that unique One whose birth defines Christmas, the old paper ornaments still have meaning, speaking across the years of the true spirit of the season. We can be content with very little, and the most important treasures in life–love, joy and peace–are Jesus' free gifts to all who call Him friend.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

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