The Sacrifice Jar

My husband and I decided many Christmases ago to simplify Christmas for each other and exchange only stockings.  Once the kids are in bed on Christmas Eve, with the house quiet and the Christmas tree lit, we sit together on the couch and like two excited kids, we empty the contents of our stockings and Oooo and Ahhh over each little gift.  It's a sweet, peaceful time, stripped from the typical, dreaded anxieties of gifts not being the right size, fit, shape or color.  As I pull each gift from the dark, depths of my red, velvet, Gingerbread Boy stocking, my heart warms at his choices for me that he proudly points out "spoke" to him.   It's my husbands loving reminder to me every Christmas Eve that not only does he love me.....but he knows me.  Through the years, however, my stocking stuffings have gotten more than my little sock can hold so like the popular Christmas song, "The 12 Days of Christmas", my own true love started the tradition of surprising me with my overflowing goodies every day for about a week before Christmas Eve.  I look forward to him emerging from our bedroom with his hands behind his back and the mischievous half smile on his face.  I've gotten beyond picking a hand and started my own tradition reaching around him feeling, poking and squishing, trying to guess my newest surprise before its brought out in front of me revealed.  My favorite surprise this year so far?  A new coffee mug!



I love my week long surprises, so for Jesus' Birthday this year I thought I'd share my Christmas Stocking experience with Him and make His birthday last longer than just one day.  So, my quest for "Gifts for Jesus" began a few short weeks ago.  I shopped and stockpiled a few presents, wrapped them, and waited with excited anticipation until I could give them to Him one by one!  I could barely contain my excitement as He opened His first gift.  With eyes wide, I clasped my hands in delight!  I knew He was going to just love it!  As the wrapping paper came off, terror gripped my chest.  That's not what I wrapped!  "Oh, Jesus!  I'm so sorry!  That's not what I meant to give you.....it looks awful!!!"  Embarrassed, I quickly presented Him with His gift meant for day two.  "Here, try this one, Lord.  It's much better, I promise."  He untied the red, satin ribbon, and began peeling away at the festive wrap, when again, I saw glimpses of another gift that was definitely NOT what I had wrapped.  "Master!  Forgive me!  These aren't the gifts I picked out for you!" Gift after gift, it was the same.  I was mortified!  Each gift when I wrapped them looked perfect, until He opened them and in His light they looked filthy, warn and broken.

I looked closely at Him.  What had I done wrong?  Why were my gifts turning out to be dismal failures and what possibly could I give Him that that wouldn't look hideous illuminated in His beautiful light?  I looked down at His hands, lovingly caressing my disastrous attempts at gifts for the King of Kings.  A lump formed in my throat and my eyes filled with tears when I noticed what I had been missing; the holes in His hands and feet; the scars of my Saviours sacrifice for me.  My heart dropped realizing each gift I gave to my Jesus, came with little to no sacrifice on my part.  A smile to a stranger, a kind word, a gentle touch......all beautiful gestures, and I could tell He liked them.....but it wasn't what He really wanted from me this Christmas.  My eyes turned to my closet and in my heart, I KNEW what He wanted.  Like a spoiled child, I inwardly stomped in defiance..."But I can't give that, I want it, too! My heart grew heavy as I felt His loving, brown eyes on me.  I couldn't take my eyes off His hands; my heart felt pierced at the visual reminder of the valuable, priceless gift He gave me.  My Master left His kingdom in heaven.... for me; He traded his kingly throne for a stable and an animals manger.... for me; He was beaten and bruised and hung to die on the cross....for me. He adopted me as His own and vowed to take care of me every moment of every day since I became His.  Not once has He broken that promise.  It was decided.  I opened the closet and reached in.............

I held the jar that had been meant for another purpose than what I had stolen it for.    I felt guilty as I turned the cold, glass in my hands.  The "Sacrifice Jar " was meant to sit on the kitchen counter as a living lesson for our family on the joys of sacrifice and to paint a visual picture for the kids of Jesus' sacrifice for us.  Each family member would sacrificially give to the jar for a family or person in need we felt the Lord wanted us to help.  We had just filled a need and it sat empty, taking up space on my counter...that is.... until I found another need for it; storage for the money I earned selling my first story.  I didn't make a lot....but enough to get the juices flowing and dreams airborne.  I planned on getting something big and exciting....kind of like a trophy...that I could look on with pride that I had earned with my writing.  Mourning the loss of my dream, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.  My Father held me close as He whispered softly, "We did write a good story together, didn't we?"  I turned to see His shining face and beautiful, wide smile.  Together.  It was never my story, my money, my jar.  It was His all along.  Given to me..........to give back to Him.  The jars original purpose to teach my children the valuable lesson of the joy in sacrifical giving........fulfilled its mission as my own heart swelled as I presented my Saviour and King..... His gift.

Last night, as the kitchen filled with the aroma of freshly brewed, Biggby hazelnut coffee, I hugged my favorite, new mug.  My husband gave me a weird look.......with a satisfied smile knowing he had chosen correctly.  Who knew empty mugs....and jars.....held so much joy?

Happy Birthday, Jesus!!