One Incredible Moment

If you have not discovered author Max Lucado, I simply cannot begin to explain how much you are missing. He is truly one of my favorite authors. Introducing him to my children brings me such joy. This is our second Christmas book we have begun reading aloud. I knew it would happen, but I certainly didn't think I would break in the very first chapter.

A massive, golf-sized lump stuck in the middle of my esophagus . . . and then the tears flowed. I finally finished that chapter and decided I had to share it with you all. I could tell you that you must buy this book, but unless I give you ample reason to, you probably won't. I'm typing out the entire chapter for you in hopes that it will stir your soul to purchase this book and read it to your children.

From One Father to Another


"This isn't the way I planned it God. Not at all. My child being born in a stable? This isn't the way I thought it would be. A cave with sheep and donkeys, hay and straw? My wife giving birth with only the stars to hear her pain?

This isn't at all what I imagined. No, I imagined family. I imagined grandmothers. I imagined neighbors clustered outside the door and friends standing at my side. I imagined the house erupting with the first cry of the infant. Slaps on the back. Loud laughter. Jubilation.

That's how I thought it would be...

But now...Who will celebrate with us? The sheep? The shepherds? The stars?

This doesn't seem right. What kind of husband am I? I provide no midwife to aid my wife. No bed to rest her back. Her pillow is a blanket from my donkey...

Did I miss something? Did I, God?

When you sent the angel and spoke of the son being born - this isn't what I pictured. I envisioned Jerusalem the temple, the priest and the people gathered to watch. A pageant perhaps. A parade...I mean, this is the Messiah!

Or, if not born in Jerusalem how about Nazareth? Wouldn't Nazareth have been better? At least there I have my house and my business. Our here, what do I have? A weary mule, a stack of firewood, a a pot of warm water. this is not the way I wanted is to be!....Forgive me for asking but...is this how God enters the world? The coming of the angel, I've accepted. The questions people asked about the pregnancy, I can tolerate. The trip to Bethlehem, fine. But why a birth in a stable, God?

Any minute now Mary will give birth. Not to a child, but to the Messiah. Not to an infant, but to God. That's what the angel said. That's what Mary believes. And God, my God, that's what I want to believe. But surely you can understand; it's not easy. It seems so...so...so...bizarre.

I'm unaccustomed to such strangeness, God. I'm a carpenter. I make things fit. I square off the edges. I follow the plumb line. I measure twice before I cut once. Surprises are not the friend of a builder. I like to know the plan. I like to see the plan before I begin.

But this time I'm not the builder, am I? This time I'm a tool. A hammer in your grip. A chisel in your hands. This project is yours not mine.

I guess it's foolish of me to question you. Forgive my struggling. Trust doesn't come easy to me, God. But you never said it would be easy, did you?

One final thing, Father. The angel you sent? Any chance you could send another? If not an angel, maybe a person? I don't know anyone around here and some company would be nice. Maybe the innkeeper or a traveler? Even a shepherd would do..."


Oh, how I love the way he writes!