Dec
18
2013
The Perfect Gift
Posted in Christmas 2 Comments
I was upstairs when the doorbell rang.
From the top of the stairs, I could see a figure that I didn’t recognize.
I came downstairs, still in my walking clothes and answered the door.
A pleasant face greeted me holding out a gift bag.
She asked my name to make sure I was the person she was seeking.
I bring a gift from Georgia. Merry Christmas.
She told me the giver’s name and I invited her inside.
A dear friend who moved to Georgia years ago was the giver.
The messenger that stood before me was the bearer of good tidings.
The messenger and I realized that we had so many mutual friends.
We were amazed at the way our lives connected on so many levels.
God brought a stranger to my door that became a friend.
Merry Christmas from Georgia.
A friend reached out across the miles to bless another friend.
I opened the gift bag after my new friend left my house.
Inside was a beautiful piece of homemade pottery.
Rustic. Primitive. Exquisite.
Holly was interspersed around the bowl.
The colors were ones I would have chosen.
Inside was a small bag of candy to put inside.
There was a note:
I hope this Christmas bowl will remind you of the Master Potter, our Heavenly Father, and that we are His clay, molded and crafted individually with love and care. No selling off to others for Him, He hands crafts each one of us and loves us all our days. His eyes are ever present on us (2 Chronicles 16:9). He always watches over us (Psalm 91:11), promising to never leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8).
A perfect gift.
A gift that pointed to the Father.
A reminder of the uniqueness of each one of us.
No mass production here!
A more splendid gift I could not have received.
A gift that allowed me to meet a new friend and sister in the Lord.
A gift that connected me to an old friend who lives many miles away.
A gift that pointed to the Father, the Giver of every good and perfect gift.
A gift opens the way for the giver and ushers him into the presence of the great.
(Proverbs 18:16)
Ushers him into the presence of the great.
Ushers him into the presence of God.
Do you give that kind of gift?
Do I?
If the litmus test is pointing another person to Christ, how does our gift measure up?
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the One who has been born king of the Jews? We saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all of the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Christ was to be born. “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied…Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “As soon as you find Him, report to me, so that I may go and worship Him. After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with His mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped Him. They opened their treasures and presented Him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. (Matthew 3:1-5, 7-12)
The three gifts had spiritual meaning.
Gold was a symbol of earthly kingship.
Frankincense was a symbol of deity.
Myrrh used as embalming oil was a symbol of death.
In their gifts, the Magi encapsulated the essence of Jesus the God-man.
God in the flesh.
King of Kings.
Lord of Lords.
The Kingdom of God was upon the people.
The people didn’t recognize Jesus.
The Magi did; they recognized the promised Someone, greater than themselves.
Do we?
Are we our own king?
Are we our own Lord?
Through the birth, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, the True King reigns.
The now and not yet of the Kingdom.
The Kingdom that Jesus ushered in at His birth will be consummated at His return.
All gifts point to Jesus, the Father’s Gift to us.
Gifts that do not point to Jesus fail to last.
They do not stand the test of time.
The Magi knew that.
They journeyed many miles and at least two years to see the Christ child.
Jesus is the Gift that surpasses all gifts.
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star
O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to thy Perfect Light
Born a King on Bethlehem’s plain
Gold I bring to crown Him again
King forever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign
O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to Thy perfect light
Frankincense to offer have I
Incense owns a Deity nigh
Prayer and praising, all men raising
Worship Him, God most high
O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to Thy perfect light
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes of life of gathering gloom
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb
O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to Thy perfect light
Glorious now behold Him arise
King and God and Sacrifice
Alleluia, Alleluia
Earth to heav’n replies
O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to Thy perfect light
(We Three Kings, written by Rev. John Henry Hopkins, Jr.)
Gina, I am blessed beyond words w tears streaming down my face. Your gift of writing brings joy to us all and I am thankful God has given you the avenue to share it w so many. He is a loving and caring Abba Father who weaves together a beautiful tapestry of all our lives. Blessings my friend as you continually point people to Jesus.
Diane,
Your words touched my heart as did your gift.
The gift of your friendship is priceless.
Gina