‘Twas The Night Before Christ’s Birth’

THE HEAVEN’S WERE STIRRING

‘Twas The Night Before Christ’s Birth’

Janis Smith

How can we keep the Spirit of Christmas alive throughout the year?

By living in Faith.

Abiding in Peace.

And reaching out with Jesus’ Love.

“I will give you a new heart

and put a new spirit in you.

I will put My Spirit in you.”

Ezekiel 36:26-27

‘Twas the night before Christ’s Birth

And all through the town

Not a person was stirring, they all had laid down

Only Joseph and Mary had just then arrived

One their way to pay taxes, Caesar Augustus contrived

They knocked on the doors of the Inn’s they could find

No room, not tonight, keepers yelled and they cried!

But Mary and Joseph not a worry in sight

For they knew God Almighty was with them that night

Though in this quiet moment the heavens were stirred

The rustling of angels’ wings soon would be heard

The heavenly beings, they watched angels scurry

Long awaited prophecy of God now occurring

While stars twinkled brightly, the angels appeared

To shepherds, yes shepherds way out in the field

“Do not be afraid!” the angels did say

Christ the Lord, was born this fine day

And Suddenly the angels out of nowhere did appear

Singing Glory to God in the Highest, Christ the Lord He is here!

The shepherds lifted their eyes in great wonder that night

As the angels from Glory to heaven took flight

Shepherds picked up their staffs and followed the STAR

To them didn’t matter how near or how far

The Savior in Bethlehem they journeyed to see

The Savior is born, Praise God, Can it be?

Mary and Joseph found refuge, in a Manger they lay

To Birth the Son of God right there on the hay

The Bright Shining Star hung in the heavens above

And the Holy Spirit lighted on them in the form of a Dove

The shepherds were guided by the Star in the sky

Not knowing one day, for them He would die.

King Jesus had come, in a lowly manger He lay

With purpose much greater, The Truth, Life and the Way

Christmas 2008, all around, such a clatter

People running to and fro, wondering what could be the matter

Almighty God birthed a master plan and still has one now

If only to Jesus today we would bow

The star in the heavens, hung by God one fine day

Pointing to Jesus who lay in the hay

The Light of the World who lit up the sky

Would soon grow up and for us He would die.

On the cross Our Dear Savior hung by His Hands and His feet

Placing His precious blood on the Holy Mercy Seat

He did this for you and He did this for me

If only on Him we would trust and believe

Descending to heaven the Savior awaits

Trumpets of Angels eager to open the Gates

While the Throne Room of God continues to Raise

Holy Lord God Almighty, One Worthy of Praise

As you enter this Season of Christmas tonight

Remember whose Birthday it is and to others shed light

Invite them to Jesus; unlock their hearts to His love

Raise to the heavens your hands up above

Sing praises with the angels who sit at the throne

And thank Him forever that you made Him your own

MERRY CHRISTMAS !

The Gallon of Milk

The Gallon of Milk

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God. The young man couldn’t help but wonder, “Does God still speak to people?”

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the idea. Several different people talked about how God had led them to do things in different ways. It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, “God… If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to serve your wishes.”

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, “God is that you?” He didn’t get a reply and started on toward home. But again, the thought was there, “Buy a gallon of milk.” The young man thought about how he’d heard that not all those spoken to recognized God’s quiet voice inside of one’s mind. Then he said, “Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.”

It didn’t seem like too hard a request to fulfill. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, “Turn down that street.”

“This is crazy,” he thought and drove on and passed the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, “Okay, God, I will.”

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn’t the best but it wasn’t the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something: “Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.” The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. “God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.” Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door. “Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as you wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.”

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man’s voice yelled out, “Who is it? What do you want?” Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he’d just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn’t seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. “What is it?”

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. “Here, I brought this to you,” he said nervously.

The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half-crying, “We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.” His wife in the kitchen yelled out, “I ask Him to send an angel with some milk. Are you an angel?”

In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man’s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car as the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God still speaks to people.

Author Unknown

The Room

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.  The subject was what Heaven was like. “I wowed ‘em,” he later told his father, Bruce. “It’s a killer. It’s the bomb. It’s the best thing I ever wrote.”  It also was the last.  Brian’s parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it  while cleaning out the teenager’s locker at Teary Valley High School.  Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them – notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen’s life.  But it was only after Brian’s death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. “It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there.” Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day.  He was driving  home from a friend’s house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.  The Moores framed a copy of Brian’s essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.  “I think God used him to make a point.  I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,”    Mrs. Moore said of the essay.  She and her husband want to share their son’s vision of  life after death.  “I’m happy for Brian.  I know he’s in heaven.  I know   I’ll see him.”

Brian’s Essay: The Room…

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered withsmall index card files.  They were like the ones in libraries that  list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.  But these files, which stretched  from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my  attention was one that read, “Girls I have liked.”  I opened it and began  flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.  And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life.  Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.  A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I  began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.  A file named ” Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I have betrayed.”  The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird “Books I Have Read,”   ”Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve yelled at my brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger”,  “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.”

I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.  Often there were many more cards than I expected.  Sometimes fewer than I hoped.  I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards?  But each card confirmed this truth.  Each was written in my own handwriting.  When I pulled out the file marked “TV Shows I have watched”, I realized the files grew to containt  their contents.  The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file.  I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked ” Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body.  I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card.  I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.  An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room!  I have to destroy them!”  In insane frenzy I yanked the file out.  Its size didn’t matter now.  I had to empty it and burn  the cards.  But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I  could not dislodge a single card.  I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.  Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.

Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.  And then I saw  it.. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.”  The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused.  I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands.  I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came.  I began to weep.  Sobs so deep that they hurt.  They started in my stomach and shook through me.  I fell on my knees and cried.  I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.  The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.  No one must ever,  ever know of this room.  I must lock it up and hide the key.  But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.  No, please not Him.  Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.

I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards.  I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring  myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.  He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.  Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room.  He looked at me with pity in His eyes.

But this was a pity that didn’t anger me.  I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.  He walked over and put His arm around me.  He could have said so many things.  But He didn’t say a word.  He just cried with me.  Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.  Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.  “No!” I shouted rushing to Him.  All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him.  His name shouldn’t be on these cards.

But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.  The name of Jesus covered mine.  It was written with His blood.  He gently took the card  back.  He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.  I don’t think I’ll  ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.  He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.”  I stood up, and He led me out of the room.  There was no lock on its door.  There were still cards to be written.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Phil. 4:13

” For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”  John 3:16