We gathered one night in the church to praise His name.
The child who was born of a virgin, Mary was His mother's name.
Songs were sung to glorify the Father for sending His only Son who was born many years before.
The story was told of the child in a manger, of a star that led three wise men who had come to bear gifts to honor the baby who was born of a virgin Mary.
The rafters shook as the voices rang with joy that night rejoicing in the birth of the little boy.
Oh, how all of heaven rejoiced!
Mary would raise Him as her son and call Him Jesus, the name that God had chosen.
But she knew inside she was looking upon the Christ who was sent to save the world from all its sin. She wondered how. What would become of Him?
The singing stopped, and we bowed our heads to thank God above for sending His one and only Son.
My heart welled up with sadness because I knew that Jesus had been born to die for all of us.
Tears rolled down my face as I walked away from the church that night because I finally knew that from now on I would never forget what Christmas was all about. Christmas wasn’t about the gifts, the food, and the decorations.
There wasn't a baby in a manger to adore once a year at Christmas, but a man had been born through a virgin to die for each one of us. It was about the Christ who came one night, lowly in a manager who was crucified on a cross at Calvary so that I could be free.