Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it.

“Is this your car, Mister?” he asked.

Paul nodded. “My brother gave it to me for Christmas.” The boy was astounded. “You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn’t cost you nothing? Boy, I wish…” He hesitated. Of course Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Paul all the way down to his heels.

“I wish,” the boy went on, “that I could be a brother like that.”

Paul looked at the boy in astonishment, then impulsively he added, “Would you like to take a ride in my automobile?”

“Oh yes, I’d love that.”

After a short ride, the boy turned and with his eyes aglow, said, “Mister, would you mind driving in front of my house?” Paul smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again.

“Will you stop where those two steps are?” the boy asked. He ran up the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car. “There she is, Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas and it didn’t cost him a cent. And some day I’m gonna give you one just like it…then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Christmas windows that I’ve been trying to tell you about.”

Paul got out and lifted the lad to the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride.

That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when he had said: “It is more blessed to give…”

My Holiday Wish for the World Is That We all Could Be Brothers Like That.

The parking lot filled rapidly on Sunday morning as members of the large church congregation filed into church. As usually happens in a church that size, each member had developed a certain comfort zone – a block of space within those four church walls that became theirs after the second or third sitting.

It was as much a part of their church experience as the recliner was to the television at home. Some of the older members had been sitting in the same row on the same side for several decades. A team of oxen could not have moved them to the opposite side of the church.

One morning a stranger stood at the edge of the parking lot near a dumpster. As families parked cars and piled out, they noticed him rummaging through the trash. “Oh no! I don’t believe it,” whispered a lady to her husband. “That’s all we need — a bunch of homeless people milling around here.”

One worried little girl tugged on her dad’s sleeve. “But Daddy…”

Daddy was busy sizing up the bearded stranger, whose baggy, outdated trousers and faded flannel shirt had dusted too many park benches.

“Don’t stare at him, honey,” he whispered, and hurried her inside.

Soft music filled the high-ceiling sanctuary as churchgoers settled into their usual spots. The choir sang an opening chorus, “In His presence there is comfort … in His presence there is peace…”.

Sunlight suddenly flooded the center aisle. The double doors swung open and the homeless man, sloppy and stooped, headed toward the front.

“Oh no, it’s him!” somebody muttered.

“What does he think he’s doing, anyway?” snapped an incredulous usher.

The stranger set his bagful of dumpster treasures on the very first pew which had been upholstered in an expensive soft teal fabric just three months ago. The music stopped. And before anyone had a chance to react, he ambled up the stairs and stood behind the fine, handcrafted oak podium, where he faced a wide-eyed congregation.

The disheveled stranger spoke haltingly at first, in a low, clear voice. Unbuttoning and removing his top layer of clothing, he described Jesus, and the love He has for all people.

“Jesus possesses a sensitivity and love that far surpasses what any of us deserves.”

Stepping out of the baggy old trousers, the stranger went on to describe a forgiveness that is available to each and every one of us…without strings attached.

“Unconditionally He loves us. Unconditionally He gave His very life for us. Unconditionally and forever, we can have the peace and assurance that no matter who we are, where we’ve come from, or how badly we may have mistreated others or ourselves, there is hope.”

“In Jesus, there is always hope.”

“You see, my friends, it is never too late to change,” the man continued.

“He is the Author of change, and the Provider of forgiveness. He came to bring new meaning to ‘life’.”

Men and women squirmed as reality hit them like an electrical current. The stranger tugged at his knotted gray beard, and removed it.

“I’m here to tell you that we are loved with a love far beyond human understanding, a love that enables us to accept and love others in return.” Then tenderly he added, “Let’s pray together.”

That wise pastor – under the guise of a homeless “nobody” – did not preach a sermon that day, but every person left with plenty to think about.

After years of experience, Brenda was faced with a challenge in Sunday School that she just didn’t know how to handle. She had never been asked to teach a child quite like Cindy!

Cindy, you see, was different. She came from a broken home. She was poor. And although she was really fairly bright, she had such a low opinion of herself that she was also an under achiever. Cindy needed love, but most of all, Cindy needed Jesus! There just had to be a way of getting through to her.

Day after day, Brenda would pray for Cindy, yet Sunday would come and go and she saw little, if any, change.

Then one day Brenda asked Cindy if she thought she could play a specific role in a Christmas Program the children were planning to do. Cindy’s response was, “Don’t you think you can find someone better than me?”

“Better than you,” came Brenda’s reply. “What makes you think there is anyone better than you?”

“Well, I’ve never been asked to do anything before because I’m no good. I mess everything up. I won’t get the part right and then everyone will be mad at me for messing up their program,” came Cindy’s answer.

“Oh, Cindy,” said Brenda in gentle voice. “I am so sorry that you think that, but you are so wrong. Don’t you realize how valuable you are to God?”

“No,” came a muffled reply for Cindy was now in tears.

“Well, Cindy,” continued Brenda. “Tell me, what was the price that God paid for you… what was He willing to give for your soul.”

“He gave His son, Jesus,” replied Cindy.

“And what was the price that God paid for me?” questioned Brenda, again.

“He gave His son, Jesus,” replied Cindy again.

“And what was the price that God paid for Bro. Bob, the pastor of this church?” questioned Brenda, again.

“He gave His son, Jesus,” replied Cindy again with a slight smile on her face.

“Don’t you see, Cindy,” said Brenda. “Would a God that is fair and just cheat Himself?”

“I guess not,” said Cindy.

“Then your soul must be just as important to God as mine is… or Brother Bob’s…. or Paul the apostles…. or anyone else’s for that matter, and I don’t ever want to hear you say different. Okay?” questioned Brenda.

“Okay,” said Cindy as she accepted a hug from her teacher for the first time!

Cindy went on to take the part in the Christmas Program, and did an excellent job. She also has participated in many Christmas Programs since then. Eventually, she accepted God’s gift of salvation and was baptized in a farm pond not far from the church.

And for years, even after Cindy was promoted to the next class, anytime Brenda sensed that Cindy was having a tough go of it, she could always get a smile out of her by asking one simple question. “Cindy, What was the price that God paid for you!”

It seemed to serve as a reminder to Cindy that regardless of what others thought, there was someone who cared! And He cared so very much…. He even sent His Son to suffer and die on her behalf!

—–  Patty Patterson