By Ron Hutchcraft
Poor Charlie Brown. For over 50 Christmases the same frustrated question has wailed from his mouth - "Can anyone tell me what Christmas is really all about?!"
My eight-year-old son could have told him. We were at the kitchen table devouring a Christmas Eve pizza, eager to start opening gifts. That's when the call came. Our kids sort of groaned collectively.
It was Wilma, the assistant principal at a tough inner city elementary school. She apologized for interrupting us on Christmas Eve (no apology needed), but she was desperate. She was trying to rescue Christmas for some of the children in her school. Their families had been burned out of their apartments in a recent series of suspicious fires. Their Christmases had gone up in flames.
Wilma asked, "Is there any way you guys could look around the house and see if there's anything you might be able to donate for these kids and their families? I just didn't know who else to call at the last minute like this." Our three kids were off to go closet diving almost before I could explain the request. Karen and I went coat shopping in our closet.
Our son Doug was the first one to return from toy hunting. There's no way I could have expected what he was carrying in his arms. His bright red, nearly new, fully equipped Tonka fire truck. Possibly his most treasured toy.
"I want to give this to some boy who might not have a Christmas," he said.
"Wow, Doug. I know how much you love that truck. But I don't want you to be sorry later on. Are you sure you want to give it?"
I've never forgotten his answer.
With wide eyes and a wrinkled brow, he held up that fire truck and asked, "But, Daddy - isn't this what Christmas is all about?"
Yes, Doug, it is.
And for some of us this Christmas, it may be about giving something that isn't easy for us to give. A gift of great value... and great sacrifice.
Giving someone time we don't have. Or a listening ear. A helping hand. An apology. Some overdue "I love you's."
Maybe our gift would be a place to stay or a financial intervention. A visit. A costly "I forgive you." A reconciling letter. A timeout for a caregiver. A meal together. Another chance.
It may very well be a gift only you can give them. And one of greater value than anything from Amazon or the mall.
It was that very first Christmas when God gave the gift only He could give. A way for us to bridge the unbreachable gap between us and Him. Created by our defiant living of life "my way" instead of His way. God comes with the priceless gift of eternal life in His hands.
But it cost Him everything.
"He spared not His own Son, " the Bible says, "but delivered Him up for us all" (Romans 8:32). For only the life of the Son of God, birthed in a stable, surrendered on a cross, could pay our penalty and give us Heaven.
So Jesus comes with nail-scarred and open hands, offering the gift only He can give. And asking -
"Isn't this what Christmas is all about?"