Monday Morning Music Ministry

12-25-24

~ A guest message by Clarence Larsen ~

Once across the Christmases of time, swirling in the snowy winds of December comes a memory. Perhaps it was a vision. Perchance a dream. I know not.

All I know is… it changed my life.

Christmas Eve was splendid! The choir processed in the darkness as candlelight flared throughout the sanctuary.

Silent night, Holy night. All is calm. All is bright.

All too soon the congregation sang their last notes of praise. The candles were extinguished, one by one. The church lights rose as the singers filed out.

Joy to the world, the Lord has come. Let earth receive her King!

The congregation bundled themselves against the cold. Sharing last-minute hugs and holiday greetings, they trundled off, into the dark. And I shuffled off into the fluffy snow of December.

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining. It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.

Upon arriving home, a box awaited me on the stairs. I scooped it up, entered the hall, and flung my snowy coat over the hook. The warmth of the kitchen… aaahhh… time for a cup of hot chocolate! Now, Christmas was complete.

God’s perfect gift waited in silence, just as He had for thousands of years. Even since before the Creation. I pondered who had left it, and what was in it. My mind began to swirl with all the possibilities. Just like the snow.

We three kings of Orient are, bearing gifts; we traverse afar…

There was nothing extraordinary about the box. Just a plain white cardboard box, bigger than a breadbox, not as large as an appliance crate. There was a note attached. I ripped open the envelope and read:

Merry Christmas!

I cannot keep this any longer. This has meant much to me for many years, but I must pass it on to you.

You see… Christmas is broken… and I cannot fix it alone, but I hope you can help.

I wish you a COMPLETE and Blessed Christmas!

The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight.

I scanned the cryptic message a dozen times, and became increasingly puzzled. The box had been labeled by a spidery, cramped hand. It read: BROKEN – PIECES MISSING.

Away in a manger, No crib for a bed

The mystery was intriguing. With gentle hands, I opened the box. What was missing? Was an important piece gone?

The little Lord Jesus Lay down His sweet head.

The innocent carol from my boyhood returned. I lifted the lid of the box, and behold, it was a nativity set of Jesus’ birth. The figures were lovingly painted in jewel-toned colors. Mary and Joseph, shepherds, wise men, even camels, cows, and sheep. There was even a rough wood stable. I felt like a little child again, pulling each piece gently out of the box.

While shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground.

The shepherds were set on the table by the window. Sheep and lambs, too. I found the angel and hung it over the stable.

An angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around.

I unpacked the Wise Men and camels, complete with their gifts of gold, and frankincense, and myrrh, and stored them behind the manger scene. My custom was to add them to the diorama on Epiphany. They would just have to wait!

O come and behold Him, born the King of Angels

The Holy Family was gloriously depicted. Mary looked at the manger with adoration. Joseph looked on, leaning on his staff. Wonder was written all over his bearded face.

What Child is this who, laid to rest…

What Child? Indeed, there was no Christ Child! Where was Baby Jesus? What would Christmas be without the Savior? I sat in front of the crèche staring into an empty manger.

And stay by my cradle Until morning is nigh.

Was Jesus the missing piece? I remembered many years where the Messiah was the centerpiece of Christmas. The music, the candlelight services, family feasts with loved ones.

O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!

I had to admit in recent years we didn’t even mention Him. Now it was simply Happy Holidays! We mustn’t offend anyone. I turned back to rummage through the box. I needed Jesus in my Christmas… and in my heart.

Unto us a child is born, Unto us a Son is given.

There was a growing mound of packing paper on the table. It was higher than the crèche itself. It reminded me how the busyness of the season could bury someone. The lights. The rehearsals. The parties. Jesus had to be somewhere here in this avalanche.

I wonder as I wander out under the sky How Jesus, the Savior, had come for to die

In the very bottom of the box, I found a small figure. The tiny Baby’s face radiated innocence and the purest love. Thank you, Lord. Jesus was not missing at all! He had been given for all the world.

And the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called…

BROKEN! Baby Jesus was not missing, but he was broken. The tiny baby had two perfectly formed arms and feet, but he had only one hand. This tiny missing part was the reason the box was marked: BROKEN. Christmas was broken. The world was broken. And I was broken.

He rules the world with truth and grace And makes the nations prove The glories of His righteousness And wonders of His love.

Finally, the Christ Child smiled up at me from the hay. The Nativity was complete. The same childlike awe and wonder I knew as a boy flooded my soul. I prayed for a while and thought of the story recorded in Luke. I began to nod off, and sleep overtook me, plunging me into a dream.

… and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.

In the dream, I found myself at the manger. Mary and Joseph greeted me, the little Lord Jesus cooed, and smiled, and reached toward me with His single hand. It broke my heart. How would this little boy ever become Joseph’s apprentice in the carpenter’s shop? Could He lay His hand on the children, and on the sick? Would He be able to break the loaves and fishes? I knew He came to give His life for mine. I knew His blood was shed to wash us clean. And stripes were laid on His back to heal the world. He would wear a crown of thorns that was meant for me. There would be nails that pierced His feet and his hands. Well… Hand. What did I have to offer Him? I was broken, too.

So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh; Come peasant, king, to own Him. The King of kings salvation brings; Let loving hearts enthrone Him.

I asked in the midst of my dream, What do I have to give You?

The voice of the Risen Savior answered with a single word… EVERYTHING… I will always be with you. I have given all for you. Come, follow Me.

His calling has echoed in me for nearly three decades. I have praised Him with music, teaching, and writing. Here I am, Lord. Send me!

Courtesy and © Clarence Larsen. Clarence is a member of Marlene Bagnull’s Write His Answer Fellowship, a writers’ and critique group. It meets regularly and is accessible on Zoom. Marlene also leads two writers conferences every year; I have been a faculty member for two decades.

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