A little Word this ChristmasMartyn Payne |
||
Mark was a very worried young boy. Very worried indeed. They were bound to find out it had been him. Hadn't both the vicar and the older choir members seen him kick the ball against the church wall? It was their last-minute rehearsal before the Christmas service the next morning. They'd even told him off and sent him home, but instead he had hung around for one last kick. If only he had listened to them! The trouble was it had been such a long choir practice. Mark did like being in the choir, but he enjoyed his football, too. In fact he was one of the stars of the choirboys eleven and had a good, strong, accurate kick for a goalkeeper. So they were bound to know it had been him. No one else could have done it. And what was more, it was his own special ball signed by some of the players in his favourite team. He'd won it in a raffle at school, and everyone knew it belong to him. Now it lay there, somewhere in the chancel, just waiting to be discovered, and he was doomed. What a Christmas! The Reverend Peter was also worried that evening. He was having a terrible Christmas Eve. There was so much to do: visiting, presents to wrap, home communions, phone calls and all the demands of the family and, what was more, his brother-in-law's lot had decided to turn up after all—a last-minute decision that meant more upheaval and chaos for them all. When would he ever get a chance to prepare a talk for the next day? How could he find time to put together just a few ideas about the greatest miracle of all time? God, the Most High, chose to come down to become the Most Low, all because God loves us. How could he make the story live again for those who had heard it so often and help his flock to see this truth afresh...? He needed time to pray, but things were just too frantic. He was afraid he was going to let his people down; afraid that he would let God down. Reverend Peter was indeed worried—almost as worried as Mark. Neither slept well that night. What a way to start Christmas! Christmas morning came. Mark had to go to church and sing with the choir. All his family and relations were coming to hear him. And Reverend Peter had to lead the service—his whole congregation was relying on him. The organ struck up with 'O little town of Bethlehem' and in processed the choir and the vicar toward their places. Mark was praying earnestly: please may no one look up at that window... please may no one notice. Reverend Peter was also praying earnestly... for inspiration, like he had never prayed before. It was just at that moment that something caught his eye. There was an object lying there in front of his seat. It was a football; a large black and white ball with signatures on it. Was this inspiration? He looked around to see where it might have come from. Then he saw it—the broken pane of glass in the east window. In that same instant he remembered seeing Mark playing with that very ball last night as they left. But instead of fixing an accusing stare on the poor choirboy, who was just singing the line 'Christian children all must be, mild obedient good as he', Reverend Peter was looking at something else. He smiled and quietly thanked God for answered prayer. His sermon that year was the best he had ever given and everyone remembered it because of the marvellous visual aid that Mark had unwittingly helped prepare. Let me describe to you what the Reverend Peter had seen. Up in the east window there were some beautiful stained-glass angels singing to the shepherds about the newborn King and above them were the words of the angels' song that Christmas morning:
But the fateful football had sailed through that window and had knocked out one whole pane, which affected one important word. Now it read:
'Look', proclaimed Reverend Peter. 'This is just what the coming of God as a baby was going to mean. The glory and the joy of heaven can now be experienced by you and me right down here in the High Street—in the busy, noisy, crazy high streets of life. That's why Jesus came, so that he would fill our ordinary lives with the extraordinary glory of heaven. And not just in the holy, special times and places but anywhere, on any street and in any place. Through the Jesus in the stable everyone can come to know God and receive God's heaven in their hearts right now.' Glory to God in the Highest and glory to God in the High st. The most high God became the most low. God had spoken His eternal Word through this little word that Christmas.
|
 |
|
