Story Bout A Man Named Joe

Come and listen to a story bout a man named Joe
A poor son of Abe whose betrothed began to show
And then while asleep an angel told him what was done
Your wife the virgin Mary will deliver you a son
     Jesus, that is, Immanuel, God with us.

Well the first thing you know ole Joe's a little scared
A census will be taken Caesar Augustus declared
So Joe said, I gotta go to register my fam
So he loaded up his donkey and they moved to Bethlehem
     of Judea, that is, cattle stalls, shining stars.

Well now it's time to say bye to this merry Christmas scene
The church would like to thank some folks for kindly droppin' in
You're all invited back next year to this locality
But we wish you'd give your heart to Christ and join our family
     believers, that is, in Christ the Lord, be born again.

He's coming back now, ya hear?

Pregnant with Humility

I wrote the following a few years ago but am reminded of these thoughts again while preparing to enjoy a fourth granddaughter in February.

Please keep in mind that we are trying to wrap our minds around the meaning of humility. I do not want to offend the reader. I am far too humble to intentionally offend. The example I am about to give is probably a man’s twisted perspective. Please accept it as merely another attempt at identifying humility. True humility makes an individual attractive and pleasing, which I think is why an expectant woman is that for me. I have wondered why I am so enchanted with and delighted by the sight of one who is pregnant. It is, I think, because she is so perfectly the picture of humility. She humbly sacrifices her shapeliness, her comfort, various vices, foods and activities, modesty and mobility, focusing her total self on the health and well-being on an unseen border, and all of this for nine long pregnant months. No matter how much she may prefer privacy, her transformation into a swollen, bulging, baby basket is a public event. With a perpetually humble smile she waddles like a duck and perches like Humpty-Dumpty. Nora Ephron said, "If pregnancy were a book, they would cut the last two chapters." It is in the last two months, however, that the little one teaches the much bigger one more lessons in humility.

It has been told that Marie Antoinette informed King Louis XVI of France that she was pregnant with these words. "I have come, Sire, to complain of one of your subjects who has been so audacious as to kick me in the belly." Punches and kicks from within are generally met with soft words and tummy rubs as mom's humble character adorns her like a gorgeous gown. She is wonderfully beastly. She is grotesquely beautiful. She is dazzlingly disfigured. She is lovely. We enjoy the humility we see in her self-sacrifice to become a conduit through which God will send a new person into the world. It is a complete lack of humility by which some women choose to terminate their pregnancies, claiming their rights and freedom to choose. Pride and self-centeredness reject the acceptance of responsibility to allow another life to take control of body and future. Thus, the choice to lay aside self-interests and bring about the birth of a child, accentuates the presence of a spirit of humility in the soon-to-be mom. The humble woman submits to the creator who is the giver of all life and, much like the mother of our Lord, she accepts the course that is set with this humble resignation, “Behold, the bond-slave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38)

Humility is Tiring

If you practice humility, you probably understand my sentiment. There are moments when being humble makes one weary. Humility involves holding others with high regard even when they don't reciprocate. It means swallowing pride even when there is nothing tasty with which to wash it down. It means maintaining good manners and civility and all with an attitude of kindness and sincerity. We are humble because we want to be, and we know it is what Jesus calls us to be. But, sometimes I would like to push the pedal to the floor and run over every person in my path. I think it would feel good to get out my Indiana Jones bullwhip to slash and snap at anyone who comes near. Like an animal tamer in a cage of lions and tigers I would hollar, "back! back! back you beasts!" Of course, if I let myself go wild, the first person I would hurt would be some poor, helpless, purely humble individual who least deserves my wrath. And then I would fail to get a single ounce of pleasure from my tirade . . . and humility would shame me for a while . . . and remind me that pride deceives and brings dishonor. The weariness of humility is always more rewarding and satisfying than the payoff of pride. "Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary." (Galatians 6:9)