By: Craig Rippy


The Holiday Season has come. I sit here at home on the busiest shopping day of the year. Yep, I decided to take the day off. It's about 8 AM as I start writing this newsletter article. My family and I have enjoyed a Thanksgiving Day of family, food, and fun. I thank God for the ability for some of my family to have reunion and also that we can enjoy being together.

Today reminds me of the next holiday we celebrate, Christmas. Just at the mention of Christmas calls up memories and emotions.

As a toddler I began living with my maternal grandparents. Divorce was the culprit that eventually sentenced me to that life. In reality, having been raised by my grandparents was of God. Yes, God is in control.

My grandparents were the way I would have opportunity to have the Gospel explained to me. Living with them put me in close proximity of eventual friends and a church that would be used to influence me to accept Christ.

The community accepted the boy raised by his grandparents. He wasn't shunned by any. Those of the area respected my grandparents as well. They were good grandparents to me and the community was good to me as well.

A couple weeks before Christmas my grandpa and I would walk into the woods, and usually at the edge of a field somewhere we would find the perfect Christmas tree. The living room would smell like cedar, the lights would reflect off the picture window and the tinsel was gaudy, because I had put it on myself.

Popcorn balls were the snack of the evening. (Even today my family has popcorn balls after making the tree gaudy with decorations.) Very few gifts would make their way under the tree until a day or two before Christmas. You know, the gifts that were to keep me thinking that my family was getting gifts for one another, but the amount of gifts shied from the norm of Christmas morning.

Every year of my childhood I spent Christmas at home with grandma, grandpa, mom, my step-dad, and eventually my sister (who was 10 years younger). Most Christmas Eves were filled with suspense as to whether Santa would show-up?

I would gorge myself with mom's (the best in the world) fudge. If I were lucky Santa would make a visit before I was near sick on fudge. Excitement had a way of bringing up sweet fudge. Santa always arrived with reindeer landing on the roof (rocks pecking), and a bearded, red suited man (Sometimes grandma. You know, it kept me off track) who I always identified as Santa Claus crossed in front of various windows. How I never recognized the face I'll never know.

Waking up with empty milk glass and cookie plate was a sure sign that Santa had been inside. Finding the "From Santa" gifts was always fun and then to find that Santa deposited small interesting gifts in my Stocking at the fireplace was always a treat.

Oh, and the dinner that followed. Feast and sleep time came every Christmas. But playing with the new toys was the day's activity for me.

Well, each of us has memories and emotions concerning Christmas. Not all of us have happy memories. Not all were from families that were willing to dress like Santa. The memories dredged up are painful and lonely for some, while for others they are welcome times of reflection.

The truth is, Christmas is for the present more than for the memory. Christmas is a celebration of the present hope and joy we have, because of the willingness of Jesus Christ to enter the stage of humanity.

We can't get rid of the past memories, and many do not want to. Yet, it is because of the present salvation and the future hope that we celebrate Christ's birth.

Whatever your memories, the mind now can be cleansed to see that God has orchestrated a miracle, weaving life situations to draw the stubborn wanderer to the Cradled Jesus. For me, it was being raised by my grandparents, for you… (Fill in the blank with your story.)

This Christmas is a time of present joy and future hope, because God sent His Son to be that for us (Luke 2:10-11; John 3:16).