Unto us a child is born, unto us a king is given. Today we give thanks for the greatest gift ever conceived, the gift of everlasting life, held in the hand of a newborn child. Countless carols describe both the ripples of power emanating from Bethlehem that first Christmas night, as well as the world’s reaction to the humble birth of the One True King. In The First Noel, wise men from afar journey to Israel with kingly gifts of gold, incense, and myrrh. The Little Drummer Boy, on the other hand, comes empty-handed, but with a heart full of praise. If you were in Bethlehem late that night, what gift would you lay at your Sovereign’s feet?

In my current life situation, I’m standing next to the little drummer boy with only my flute in hand. My gift to Jesus is simply the love he first showed me. Since I am “a poor boy too,” I can’t really afford gifts for others, including my parents, that would communicate how deeply important they are to me. Words, however, cost no money and require no wrapping paper. During this Advent season, I have collected thoughts and sentiments about both of my parents from some of those whose lives they’ve touched. It has been such a joy to learn that so many others see in them what I’ve seen my whole life. My gift to “Mom and John” this Christmas is to show them that, through their faithfulness to the greatest of all gift-givers, others have received priceless blessings, as well. As you read about my mom and stepdad, note that the words in bold are quotes from the messages multiple people wrote about them.

My stepdad’s favorite chair in his living room looks like a used bookstore after an earthquake. Biblical commentaries, enormous Greek grammar tomes, and who knows how many Bibles surround the chair in tottering piles. I really don’t know how he reads them all, but in listening to his teaching, as well as in being his Greek student, I know he does. John is a natural teacher, despite his humble manner of approaching his studies. Not long ago, he devoted many an afternoon to helping a local seminary student learn to love the jumbled sentences of the New Testament’s original text. This man was lost in the weeds of Greek, but, thanks to John’s generosity and humble and gentle spirit, was so encouraged in his studies that he keeps up with his Greek to this day.  This man saw what every person who has listened to John teach knows – his love of New Testament Greek is not dry or merely academic, but rather is driven by a deep love of Jesus and a desire to learn how to best orient his heart towards the Lord. The love John shows to his students, his church, and the Lord God is a precious gift to each of them.

To John’s chagrin, my mom has only enough interest in Greek to have learned one word – kai -the word for “and.” Despite this, she has just as much of a passion and love for the Word as he does. One look at her office – at the colored pencils, coffee cups, and neatly-lettered binder paper scattered throughout – shows the hunger, discipline, and intentionality with which she approaches Scripture. Though the women in my mom’s Bible study group (including me) are drawn to her home by her hospitable spirit, it is not the treats, coffee, or friendly chatter that draw us back each week. Once we all settle ourselves at her enormous, walnut dining room table, it is my mom’s commitment and diligence to intensive study of Scripture that encourage the rest of us to dive ever more deeply into the Word. My mom never flounders in her thoughtful and slow investigation of God’s Word, but instead abides in the Lord’s sanctuary with a posture of peace and humility. The awe my mom lays at God’s feet causes others’ love for him to increase. These wrapping-paperless gifts suit a King in a manger far more than gold or incense.

Both of my parents stand out in a superficial, scheming world because of their unwavering integrity. My mom’s character burns like a flame inside her heart. Among the group of women serving in women’s ministry, she often felt like “a square peg in a round hole” (her words). While I saw concern and doubt creasing her brow regarding this burden, the women with whom she served admired her passion for the truth and willingness to speak it. They saw the courage and conviction it took for her to stand alone, if needed. Though by nature my mom is kind and endlessly patient, she will not back down when she sees injustice and hurt brought upon the helpless. Her integrity and principle even brought her to the small crowd of people on the grass of College Park to protest the treatment of migrant children at the border. Jesus himself cherished children, so I know that my mom’s love for “these little ones” is an honorable and worthy gift.

Whereas my mom’s integrity reminds me of a flame, John’s brings to mind a rock. This admirable (and, to his daughter, sometimes frustrating) character trait is seen in John’s uncompromising commitment to principle . He knows, along with the writer of 1 John, that there is light and there is darkness, and we can only walk in one or the other. While John will not budge if it means drifting into the dark, his friends and family know that he is gentle, kind, and humble when it comes to opinions and disagreements within the church. Our recently-retired pastor puts it this way, “He lives and operates by principle.  Yet there is also a solid balance (or perhaps ‘perspective’) that allows him to deal gently with those who are not there yet.  When someone in our church has a different view on something, he doesn’t berate or argue, but treats them with grace.” Personally, I struggle with the inability to see anything but black or white in life, but John is able to discern when peaceful disagreement is best for the Church, as well as be able to subjugate any pride for the good of others. Whether standing in front of his class in blue jeans and a blue shirt or preaching in the suit I sometimes forget he owns, the grace he gifts to the Church is precious to Jesus, as well.

What with wars over masks, school shootings, and devastating natural disasters, the world right now is in a pressure cooker. Tragedy and suffering tend to uncover what lies in the depths of a person’s heart. We’ve seen brawls in grocery stores and toilet paper hoarding, alongside towns rallying together in the face of tornado damage. We’ve seen the selfless work of thousands of doctors and nurses as well as those few who seek only profit in the illnesses of others.

Hard times magnify someone’s character and my parents’ history of painful divorces reveals not bitterness or hate, but perseverance and forgiveness. Yes, forging a blended family was hard; I would know, having spent many a night on the carpet, listening at my parents’ door as they argued. Their faith and commitment to God and to each other, though, meant I never once felt unsafe or unloved. (Plus, I was not exactly an even-tempered teenager.) A deep well of compassion fills each of my parents’ hearts because of the pain they have shared. One woman in our church has been particularly touched by the complete lack of judgment my mom has shown in their friendship. Our current pastor has been impacted strongly by John, as well, seeing John’s sensitivity to others’ hurts, which he possesses because he himself has hurt, too. My parents, though not perfect, have routinely demonstrated faith-fueled perseverance in the face of sorrow, anger, and pain. Not only is this a priceless gift to Jesus, but, as the book of James says, it is richly rewarded – with a golden crown and eternal life.

The greatest commandment describes the only two gifts Jesus wants this Christmas – your love for him and your love for others. Whether it be through their prayers, study, or service, my parents reflect God’s love onto all of us who have the privilege of knowing them. Their encouragement of the church to settle ever more peacefully into the arms of the Lord is what they, perhaps unwittingly, lay at the feet of Jesus, on Christmas and throughout the year. My gift to them, as the sun peeks over the horizon and the smell of cinnamon rolls and apple cider fills the house, is to remind them that not only are they precious to me, they are also cherished by all those around them. Though I’m sure I’ll enjoy scattering ribbon and sparkles everywhere as I rip open those boxes under their tree, my parents’ only gift to me that truly matters is the same one they bring to the cradle of their Savior – unconditional, selfless love.

Merry Christmas and thanks to all of you who encouraged me in your own love for these two amazing people!

Christmas carols in order: The Little Drummer Boy; Go, Tell It On the Mountain; O Come, O Come Immanuel; O Holy Night; I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day; Hymn for Christmas Day; In the Bleak Midwinter; Fullness of Grace (Getty).