A Christmas Story Lee Stroble

A Christmas Story Lee Stroble

What we say and do really matters during this special season – as I found out when I was a skeptical newspaper reporter

The Chicago Tribune newsroom was eerily quiet on the day before Christmas in 1974. As I sat at my desk with little to do, my mind kept wandering back to a family I had encountered a month earlier while I was working on a series of articles about Chicago’s neediest people.

Sixty-year-old Perfecta and her granddaughters Lydia and Jenny had been burned out of their roach-infested tenement and were now living in a tiny two-room apartment on the West Side. As I walked in, I couldn’t believe how empty it was. There was no furniture, no rugs, nothing on the walls – only a small kitchen table and one handful of rice. That’s it. They were virtually devoid of possessions.

In fact, eleven-year-old Lydia and thirteen-year-old Jenny owned only one short-sleeved dress each, plus one thin, gray sweater between them. When they walked the half-mile to school through the biting cold, Lydia would wear the sweater for part of the distance and then hand it to her shivering sister, who would wear it the rest of the way.

But despite their poverty and the painful arthritis that kept Perfecta from working, she still talked confidently about her faith in Jesus. She was convinced he had not abandoned them. I never sensed despair or self-pity in her home; instead, there was a gentle feeling of hope and peace.

I wrote an article about the family, and then I quickly moved on to more exciting assignments. But as I sat at my desk on Christmas Eve, I continued to wrestle with the irony of the situation: here was a family that had nothing but faith and yet seemed happy, while I had everything I needed materially but lacked faith – and inside I felt as barren as their apartment.

I walked over to the city desk to sign out a car. It was a slow news day, with nothing of consequence going on. My boss could call me if something were to happen. In the meantime, I decided to drive over to West Homer Street and see how the Perfecta and the girls were doing.

When Jenny opened the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes! Tribune readers had responded to my article by showering the family with a treasure trove of gifts – roomfuls of furniture, appliances, and rugs; a lavish Christmas tree with piles of wrapped presents underneath; carton upon bulging carton of food; and a dazzling selection of clothing, including dozens of warm winter coats, scarves, and gloves. On top of that, they donated thousands of dollars in cash.

But as surprised as I was by this outpouring, I was even more astonished by what my visit was interrupting: Perfecta and her granddaughters were getting ready to give away much of their newfound wealth. When I asked Perfecta why, she replied in halting English: “Our neighbors are still in need. We cannot have plenty while they have nothing. This is what Jesus would want us to do.”

That blew me away! If I had been in their position at that time in my life, I would have been hoarding everything. I asked Perfecta what she thought about the generosity of the people who had sent all of these goodies, and again her response amazed me.

“This is wonderful; this is very good,” she said, gesturing toward the largess. “We did nothing to deserve this – it’s a gift from God. But,” she added, “it is not his greatest gift. No, we celebrate that tomorrow. That is Jesus.”

To her, this child in the manger was the undeserved gift that meant everything – more than material possessions, more than comfort, more than earthly security. And at that moment, something inside of me wanted desperately to know this Jesus – because, in a sense, I saw him in Perfecta and her granddaughters.

They had peace despite poverty, while I had anxiety despite plenty; they knew the joy of generosity, while I only knew the loneliness of ambition; they looked heavenward for hope, while I only looked out for myself; they experienced the wonder of the spiritual while I was shackled to the shallowness of the material – and something made me long for what they had.

Or, more accurately, for the One they knew.

With Perfecta and her granddaughters in the back of my mind, a few years later I decided to investigate Christianity and ultimately ended up becoming a follower of Jesus. To this day, I continue to carry the lessons I learned from Perfecta and the girls.

The truth is that people are more spiritually receptive this time of year. What we say and do can make a big difference in pointing people toward the unique Son of God, whose birth we commemorate this month.

So please join me in making this Christmas season count for Christ by bringing his message of grace and hope to our neighbors whose hearts are secretly barren without him.

The Winter of your Soul

Psalms 74:17: You set the boundaries of the earth, and you made both summer and winter.

What I will be sharing with you in a moment is what I read this today in one of my devotionals. But I read it today as the morning paper it was so relevant....We get disappointed with people and the lack of results we see especially in ministry. But I know that God controls the seasons. Here in the North East it gets cold. I love winter, at least until after Christmas them I am thinking of warmer climates. Winter to me has been more of an ambience of the Holiday. It fits well with Christmas and the New Year’s celebrations. You may love snow; some of you even love the cold but no one likes winter in the soul unless but it has a purpose! It is sent by God for a reason.

Here is what CH Spurgeon says I have tried modernizing the English without butchering the poetry too much.

"My soul, you start this wintry month with your God. Remember this: Summer and winter show He is in control of every season. In fact, he said that these are signs of his enduring promises. {Gen 8:22} Even the cold snows and the piercing winds all remind you that He keeps His pledge and promises and assures you that He will also keep that glorious covenant which He has made with you in the person of Christ Jesus. He is true to His Word in the seasons of this poor sin-polluted world, and he will do everything he promises because of Jesus Christ.

Winter in the soul is by no means a comfortable season, and if it you are going through your soul’s winter it can be very painful to you: but there is this comfort, namely, that the Lord makes it. He sends the sharp blasts of adversity to nip the budding flowers of expectation: He scatters the frost like ashes over the once green meadows of our joy: He casts forth His ice like morsels freezing the streams of our delight. He does it all, He is the great Winter King, and rules in the realms of frost, and therefore you should not, you cannot murmur. Losses, crosses, heaviness, sickness, poverty, and a thousand other ills, are of the Lord's sending, and come to us with wise design. Frosts kill harmful insects, and kills raging diseases; they break up the soil in the fields, and sweetens the soul. Oh that such good result would always follow our winters of affliction in our soul!

How we prize the fireplace and the heat when it is so cold. How pleasant is its cheerful glow! Let us in the same manner prize our Lord, who is the constant source of warmth and comfort in every time of trouble. Let us draw near to Him and in Him find joy and peace in believing. Let us wrap ourselves in the warm garments of His promises, and go forth to labors which suit the season, we cannot be lazy like the man in proverbs who will not plough by reason of the cold; for he shall be a beggar in summer because he has no harvest.” Spurgeon {Edited}

"Summer and Winter Spring time and Harvest, Sun, moon and Stars in their courses above, join with all nature in manifold witness to thy great faithfulness mercy and love. Great is thy faithfulness, Great is thy faithfulness, Morning by morning new mercies I see....all I have needed thy hand hath provided, Great is they faithfulness Lord unto me."