The Max Lucado Christmas Collection

by Max Lucado

  “DISGUISED AS AN ANGEL OF LIGHT. . . ,” he said softly.

  As quickly as he had appeared, Satan was gone. And we erupted in praise.

  “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!”

  “King of kings and Lord of lords!”

  As the Father received our praise, He whispered to me. I heard Him as if at my side. “Go, Gabriel; go and tell Mary.”

  On a wave of worship I flew, this time alone. I circled through the clouds and over the ground. Below me was the city where Mary was born. The Father was right; I knew her in an instant. Her heart had no shadow. Her soul was as pure as any I’ve seen.

  I made the final descent. “Mary.” I kept my voice low so as not to startle her.

  She turned but saw nothing. Then I realized I was invisible to her. I waved my wings before my body and incarnated. She covered her face at the Light and shrank into the protection of the doorway.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I urged.

  The minute I spoke, she looked up toward the sky. Again I was amazed.

  I praised my Father for His wisdom. Her heart is so flawless, so willing. “Greetings. God be with you.”

  Her eyes widened, and she turned as if to run. “Mary, you have nothing to fear. You have found favor with God. You will become pregnant and give birth to a son and call His name Jesus. He will be great. He will be called the Son of the Highest. The Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David; He will rule Jacob’s house forever—no end, ever, to His kingdom.”

  Though she was listening, she was puzzled.

  “But how? I’ve never slept with a man.”

  Before I spoke I looked up into the heavens. The Father was standing, giving me His blessing.

  I continued, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the Highest hover over you; therefore, the child you bring to birth will be called Holy, Son of God. Nothing, you see, is impossible with God.”

  Mary looked at me, then up into the sky. For a long time she gazed into the blueness, so long that I, too, looked up. Did she see the angels? Did the heavens open? I do not know. But I do know when I looked back at her, she was smiling.

  “Yes, I see it all now: I’m the Lord’s maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say.”

  As she spoke, a Light appeared in her womb. I glanced at the vial. It was empty.

  Joseph led the donkey off the side of the road and rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Let’s find a place to spend the night. It’ll be dark before we reach Bethlehem.”

  Mary didn’t respond. Joseph walked around the side of the animal and looked into his wife’s face. She was asleep! Chin on her chest, hands on her stomach. How had she been able to doze off while riding on the back of a donkey?

  Suddenly her head popped up and her eyes opened. “Are we there?”

  “No.” The young husband smiled. “We still have several hours to go. I see an inn up ahead.

  Shall we spend the night?”

  “Oh, Joseph. I’m feeling we should continue until we reach Bethlehem.” Then she paused. “Perhaps we can stop for a rest.”

  He sighed, smiled, squeezed her hand, and resumed his place, leading the donkey toward the simple structure on the side of the road. “It’s crowded,” Joseph said as he lowered Mary to the ground. It took several minutes for Joseph to find a bench where the two could sit.

  “I’ll return in a moment with something to eat.”

  Joseph elbowed his way through the crowd. He turned around in time to see a woman take his empty seat next to Mary. Mary started to object, but then she smiled, looked through the crowd at Joseph, and shrugged.

  Not an unkind bone in her body, he mused.

  Of all the bizarre events over the last few months, he was sure of one thing: the heart of his wife. He’d never met anyone like her. Her story that an angel appeared in the middle of the afternoon? Could have been some kid playing a trick. His memory of an angel appearing in his sleep? Could have been from God . . . could have been from too much wine. Her story about her uncle being struck speechless until the cousin was born? Could have been laryngitis.

  But her story about being a pregnant virgin? Mary doesn’t lie. She’s as pure as an angel. So if Mary says she’s a virgin, she is. If she says the baby is the Son of God, let’s just hope He gets His nose from the Father’s side of the family.

  Mary—round-faced and short—wasn’t a beauty by any means. A bit hefty even before she was pregnant. But her eyes always twinkled, and her heart was bigger than the Mediterranean. She had an ever-present smile and the countenance of a person about to deliver the punch line of a good joke. That’s what made Mary, Mary. Joseph shook his head as Mary pushed herself to her feet so the husband of the woman who’d taken Joseph’s seat could sit down.

  The man started to object, but she waved him off. “I need to stand for a minute,” she mouthed to Joseph as she walked in his direction. Or waddled in his direction. They’d both hoped the baby would come in Nazareth; at least they had family there. They knew no one in Bethlehem.

  Joseph tucked her arm in his, and the two leaned against a wall. “You sure you want to go farther?”

  She nodded, and after more than a few “excuse me’s” and “pardon me’s,” the two found their way to the door.

  “One more drink of water?” Mary asked.

  “Of course. Wait outside.”

  Mary leaned against a tree as Joseph stood in line at the well. She smiled at the way he quickly struck up a conversation with the man in front of him. When he returned carrying water, the man came with him.

  “Mary, this is Simon. He’s also going to Bethlehem and has offered us a place to sit in his ox cart.”

  “That’s kind of you.”

  Simon smiled. “I’d enjoy the company. Just tie your donkey to the back.”

  “Excuse me. I heard you say Bethlehem. Would you have room for one more?”

  The request came from an old man with a long silver beard and the fringes of a rabbi. Simon quickly nodded.

  After helping Mary into the wagon, Joseph turned to help the rabbi. “What was your name?”

  “Gabriel,” I answered, and took a seat across from Mary.

  Aegus hovered in front of the wagon and Paragon behind. Both were alert, wings spread and swords drawn. Up until the stop at the inn, I had flown with them. But something seemed suspicious about the wagon, so I took the form of a person. I quickly regretted not having chosen the appearance of a young merchant (the beard I wore itched horribly).

  My battalion didn’t need me to remind them, but I did anyway:

  “HELL DOES NOT WANT

  IMMANUEL BORN.

  STAY ALERT.”

  Invisible angels a dozen deep encircled the wagon. I smiled to myself. Simon could have driven blindfolded. There was no way this cart would have failed to reach its destination.

  The congested road slowed our progress. We traveled no faster than those around us on foot, but at least Mary could rest. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the side of the wagon. I could see the radiance in her womb. He glowed like a healing fire. I worshiped Him, even unborn. My heart celebrated with silent songs of praise which He could hear. I smiled as Mary felt Him move. Around me the army heard my song and joined in praise.

  About an hour later I sensed it. Evil. My body tensed. The feel of deviltry was on the road, lurking among the travelers. I alerted the angels. “Be ready.” Sophio entered the cart and whispered, “He prowls as a lion, looking for someone to devour.” I nodded in agreement and searched the faces of those walking near the wagon.

  A young man approached the cart. He asked Mary, “You look tired. Would you like some water?” Mary said, “Thank you,” and reached for the offered wineskin. I jumped to my feet, purposefully bumping the demon’s arm. The water pouch fell to the ground as Mary and Joseph heard me apologize. Only the young man heard me challenge him:

  “BEAST OF HELL,

  YOU SHALL NOT TOUCH

&
nbsp; THIS

  DAUGHTER OF

  GOD.”

  The demon vacated the body of the man and drew a sword. “You have no chance this time, Gabriel,” he cried, and suddenly dozens of demons appeared from all sides and raced toward Mary.

  “Joseph,” she spoke, her face full of pain as she held her womb, “something’s wrong. It— it’s like something’s hitting me in the stomach. I’m in terrible pain.”

  Instantly I assumed angelic form and wrapped myself around her as a shield. The demons’ swords pierced me. I felt their sting— but she was safe. Just then Paragon and seven angels appeared, slashing at the demons’ backs. The demons were distracted but determined.

  The wagon began to shake. Travelers began to panic. I heard a cry. I looked up in time to see Simon clutch his throat. His face was red, and his eyes bulged. Around his neck I could see the spiny fingers of a troll. Another demon had bewitched the ox, causing it to lurch spastically toward the side of the road.

  Someone screamed, “STOP THEWAGON, THERE’S A CLIFF AHEAD!”

  A courageous man attempted to grab the reins, but he couldn’t move. Afterward he told people he was frozen with fear. I knew otherwise: a demon had webbed him to the road.

  Simon gasped for breath and slumped sideways on the seat. I knew he was dead. The possessed animal swerved madly toward the cliff. I looked at Mary. Joseph’s arm was around her shoulders; her hand was on her round stomach. I knew that in a matter of seconds we would crash over the edge into the valley below. The driver was dead; the wagon was out of control. I turned and prayed to the only One who could help.

  From the womb, He spoke. His parents did not hear. The word was not for the ears of Mary and Joseph. Only the hosts of heaven and hell could hear the word. And when they did, all stopped.

  “LIFE!”

  The command flooded the wagon as totally as it had flooded Eden. The demons began scattering like rats.

  “LIFE!”

  came the command a second time. Simon coughed as air filled his lungs. “The reins!” I shouted. He gasped, grabbed the reins, and pulled himself erect. Through watery eyes he saw the edge of the road and instinctively yanked the animal back until it stopped. We were safe.

  But even with the demons gone, I took no chances. My command to Sophio was urgent. “They found her on the road; they will find her room at the inn. Do what needs to be done.” Sophio saluted and soared ahead to the inn at Bethlehem.

  Mary remained enveloped in my Light. Joseph watched her with alarm; she relaxed in my care. “I’m better now,” she said. “What happened to the rabbi?”

  But don’t you have just one room?” Joseph pleaded.

  “To be honest, I did. But only moments ago a large delegation arrived and took every last bed. I don’t have a place for you and your wife.”

  Joseph tried to be patient, but his jaw was tightening. He leaned forward so his face was inches from the innkeeper’s. “See that lady in the cart?” he asked through his teeth. “She is my wife. She could deliver any minute. She nearly had the baby this afternoon in a wagon. She is in pain right now. Do you want the baby to be born here in your doorway?”

  “No, of course not, but I can’t help you. Please understand. I have no more rooms.”

  “I heard you, but it is midnight and cold. Don’t you have any place for us to keep warm?”

  The man sighed, looked at Mary and then at Joseph. He walked into his house and returned with a lamp. “Behind the inn is a trail which will lead you down a hill. Follow it until you come to a stable. It’s clean, at least as clean as stables usually are.” With a shrug he added, “You’ll be warm there.”

  Joseph couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “YOU EXPECT US

  TO STAY IN THE

  STABLE?”

  “Joseph.” It was Mary speaking. She’d heard every word. He turned; she was smiling. He knew exactly what the smile meant. Enough arguing.

  His sigh puffed his cheeks. “That will be fine,” Joseph consented and took the lamp.

  “Strange,” the clerk muttered to himself as the couple left. Turning to his wife he asked, “Who was the man who took all the rooms?”

  Opening the register, the woman read the name aloud. “Different name. Sophio. Must be Greek.”

  We were a wreath of Light around the stable, a necklace of diamonds around the structure. Every angel had been called from his post for the coming, even Michael. None doubted God would, but none knew how He could, fulfill His promise.

  “I’ve heated the water!”

  “No need to yell, Joseph, I hear you fine.”

  Mary would have heard had Joseph whispered. The stable was even smaller than Joseph had imagined, but the innkeeper was right—it was clean. I started to clear out the sheep and cow, but Michael stopped me.

  “THE FATHER WANTS

  ALL OF CREATION

  TO WITNESS THE MOMENT.”

  Mary cried out and gripped Joseph’s arm with one hand and a feed trough with the other. The thrust in her abdomen lifted her back, and she leaned forward.

  “Is it time?” Joseph asked.

  She shot back a glance, and he had his answer.

  Within moments the Awaited One was born. I was privileged to have a position close to the couple, only a step behind Michael. We both gazed into the wrinkled face of the infant. Joseph had placed hay in a feed trough, giving Jesus His first bed.

  All of God was in the infant. Light encircled His face and radiated from His tiny hands. The very glory I had witnessed in His throne room now burst through His skin.

  I felt we should sing but did not know what. We had no song. We had no verse. We had never seen the sight of God in a baby. When God had made a star, our words had roared. When He had delivered His servants, our tongues had flown with praise. Before His throne, our songs never ended. But what do you sing to God in a feed trough?

  In that moment a wonderful thing happened. As we looked at the baby Jesus, the darkness lifted. Not the darkness of the night, but the darkness of the mystery. Heaven’s enlightenment engulfed the legions.

  Our minds were filled with Truth we had never before known. We became aware for the first time of the Father’s plan to rescue those who bear His name. He revealed to us all that was to come. At once amazed and stunned, the eye of every angel went to one part of the child: the hands which would be pierced. “At the pounding of the nail,” God told us, “you will not save Him. You will watch, you will hear, you will yearn, but you will not rescue.”

  Paragon and Aegus turned to me, begging for an explanation. I had none. I exist to serve my King and I must watch Him be tortured? I looked to Michael; his face was stone-hard with torment. I recognized the look, for I felt the same. We could not fathom the command.

  “HOW WILL WE SIT

  SILENT

  AS YOU

  SUFFER ?”

  we asked in unison.

  There was no response.

  Sophio was whispering. I drew near to hear his words:

  “A child has been given to us; God has given a Son to us. He will be responsible for leading the people. His name will be:

  WONDERFUL

  COUNSELOR,

  POWERFUL GOD,

  FATHER WHO LIVES

  FOREVER,

  PRINCE OF PEACE.

  He will be wounded for the wrong they did, crushed for the evil they did. The punishment which will make them well will be given to Him. They will be healed because of His wounds.”

  Once again, I heard the words I had heard first in the throne room. Only this time, I understood.

  So this is He. Immanuel. So this is God’s gift. A Savior. He shall save His people from their sins. “Worthy is the Lamb,” I whispered as I knelt before my God. My heart was full. I turned to Mary as she cradled her child and I spoke. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t hear me. The stars could. All of nature could. And most of all, my King could.

  “Do you know who you hold, Mary? You secure the Auth
or of grace. He who is ageless is now moments old. He who is limitless is now suckling your milk. He who strides upon the stars, now has legs too weak to walk; the hands which held the oceans are now an infant’s fist. To Him who has never asked a question, you will teach the name of the wind. The Source of language will learn words from you. He who has never stumbled, you will carry. He who has never hungered, you will feed. The King of creation is in your arms.”

  “What manner of love is this?” Michael whispered, and again we were covered with silence. A blanket of awe. Finally, Michael again opened his mouth, this time to sing. He began quietly, pausing between the words.

  “GLORY,

  GLORY,

  GLORY TO GOD IN

  THE HIGHEST.”

  One by one we joined in.

  “GLORY,

  GLORY,

  GLORY TO GOD

  IN THE HIGHEST.”

  Gradually the chorus grew louder and faster: “Glory, glory to God in the highest. Glory, glory to God in the highest. Glory, glory to God in the highest.”

  Our praise rose into the realms of the universe. In the most distant galaxy the dust on the oldest star danced with our praise. In the depths of the ocean, the water rippled with adoration. The tiniest microbe turned, the mightiest constellation spun, all of nature joined with us as we worshiped

  IMMANUEL,

  THE GOD

  WHO HAD

  BECOME FLESH.

  THE CHRISTMAS CANDLE

  FOR GREG AND SUSAN LIGON:

  Celebrating the lumination

  you bring to so many

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1: AFTERNOON

  CHAPTER 2: EVENING

  CHAPTER 3: FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT