My mother had a canary that seldom sang. But he loved it when she ran the vacuum cleaner. Mom kept a very clean house, so the canary got plenty of song–time.
Max Lucado told a similar story in his book, In the Eye of the Storm. Another woman had a canary that sang like crazy whenever she vacuumed the rug. One day she was vacuuming, and the bird, “Chirpy,” was singing, as usual. The floor of the birdcage was littered with seed hulls and bird droppings and other unmentionable stuff. So she decided to vacuum that floor too.
As she put the vacuum hose into the cage, the phone rang. Reaching for it, she tilted the nozzle upward, sucking Chirpy into the hose and down into the vacuum cleaner bag. Naturally, Mrs. Chirpy was dismayed that she had endangered her beloved canary’s wellbeing, so she quickly turned off the vacuum, telephone forgotten, and tore open the bag, which was filled with dirt and dust and other unmentionable stuff you find on a floor.
Poor Chirpy was coughing and wheezing and hacking. So his kindly owner rinsed him off, holding him under the faucet, gently washing away the dirt and grime. By now the poor songbird was coughing and wheezing from the dust and glub–glubbing from the water. So she dried him off using her hair dryer.
Finally, the woman put the bedraggled little canary back into his cage. Several days later she got up the nerve to tell her husband what had happened.
“Well, how is he doing?” the man asked.
“He seems to be okay,” she admitted, “but he doesn’t seem to sing much anymore!”
Maybe you relate to the well–meaning but misguided woman—you’ve made one poor decision after another, and each one has taken things from bad to worse; your decisions have hurt others.
Or maybe you relate to the canary, who suffered so much from others’ bad decisions: life has sucked you down into a veritable dirt–bag; then a deluge of problems almost drowned you.nd don’t forget being blasted with a breathtaking quantity of hot air!!!
Maybe you too think,“No wonder I don’t sing much anymore!” Or maybe your bad decisions have hurt your own life.
The new year is a good time to ask God for help to make wise decisions. Ask God to guide you into all truth (John 16:13). With his help, you can be chirpy once again.
*The views expressed in this blog are in no way intended to represent the views of Child Evangelism Fellowship©. They are exclusively the expressed views of Curtis Alexander.
Sleet stung Steen’s neck, walking south on Capital Way. The Christmas tree lot was a fair piece from home. Dragging a tree back, the ice would be in his face.
He walked onto the lot. Only one tree left! Well, it is Christmas Eve. “Twenty bucks, reduced to ten,” the man said. As Steen reached for the money, a big, round, jolly guy got out of a pickup—dressed like St. Nick, he looked like Santa Claus, Junior. “I’ll give you twenty,” he
said.  “Hey, that’s my tree,” Steen howled.
“Sold,” tree guy said to the interloper, counting his money.
“Sorry,” Junior said with a smile. “It’s for a friend who can’t afford one.” Steen’s face got red and St. Nick Jr. said, “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.” Steen was steamed, but couldn’t face that walk home in the sleet and wind. The 30–minute walk was a five–minute drive.
Steen climbed the outside stairs, wondering what to do. Andy would be home soon, and there’d be no Christmas tree for the ten–year–old. Curses on Helen for walking out on Thanksgiving Day, taking the car, the good job, the happiness. Well, he could put the ten bucks toward rent.
Someone pounded on the door. There stood Santa Claus Jr., holding the tree. “Wha—” was all Steen could gurgle before the jolly giant grinned big. “I said it was for a friend. Where d’ya want it?”
“I don’t even know you,” Steen sputtered.
“Hi, I’m Walt,” the grinning giant said, shaking hands. “There, now we’re friends.”
Steen gaped as the guy disappeared down the stairs. He was still scratching his head when Walt reappeared with armloads of ham, potatoes, pumpkin pie mix, cranberry sauce and God knew what else in there. His third trip brought gifts, festive and cheerful in the cheerless apartment.
Just then, in came Andy. With blond curls and blue eyes, he looked like Helen. The lad eyed the beaming Junior and smiled back. “You look like Santa Claus, only young.” Walt roared with laughter, high–fiving Andy’s small hand with his giant paw.
“The folks at my church say ‘Merry Christmas,’” he explained. “Someone knows about your need and wants to show Christ’s love.”
“Bein’ poor stinks,” was all Steen could say before he burst into tears.
“How ’bout I pick you up at 5:40 for Christmas Eve service?” Junior asked. Steen was still weeping, so Andy said,“You bet.”
Later Andy asked, “Dad, was that really Santa Claus Jr.?”
“No, son,” Steen said, “I think that was Jesus Jr.”
* The views expressed in this blog are in no way intended to represent the views of Child Evangelism ellowship©. They are exclusively the expressed views of Curtis Alexander.
Every year in late March or early April, and again in November, I used to teach my World Religion students about Judaism, including the spring and fall festivals. The exam usually asked them to list a few of the festivals they could remember. Invariably, the most–named Jewish festival was Hanukkah (or Chanukah), perhaps because its date, which is established according to the lunar calendar, not our solar calendar, falls just before or during the celebration of Christmas. The 2012 Hanukkah holiday began at sundown on December 8 and ran until yesterday, December 16.
 Though one of the most commonly–known holidays of Judaism, most non–Jewish people know little about Hanukkah itself. It is not named in the Torah or other sacred Scriptures of Judaism, because it originated in the second century BC, three hundred years after the Hebrew Scriptures were
completed.
As its name, “Festival of Lights,” implies, its signature image is the lighting of the Menorah, modified from the traditional candelabra once found in the temple. Each of Hanukkah’s eight days involves the lighting of one lamp or candle, as the others, already lit, are maintained throughout the festival. On the last day of Hanukkah, all eight lights—plus the elevated ninth light, the “shammosh”—burn together.
The historical foundation of this important celebration arises from a rebellion against atrocities committed by one of Alexander the Great’s Greek–Persian successors in 168 BC. Within four years, the Jewish rebels, led by brothers Judas and Jonathan Maccabaeus, had freed Israel and recaptured the desecrated temple in Jerusalem. They purified it and began to reinstitute temple worship. But to their dismay, they discovered they had only one day’s worth of consecrated olive oil for the Menorah. It would take seven more days to make the
holy oil. Miraculously, the tradition says, the one day’s worth of holy oil continued to burn for the entire eight days, until new oil was available. Ceremonies in Hanukkah can include music, hot potato latkes, “Hanukkah Gelt” and other foods and rituals.
Though there are probably about 20–million Jews worldwide, the monotheistic religion of Judaism (founded perhaps as early as 2000 BC) provides the basis for the world’s two most populous religions, Christianity (2.2 billion; founded in the first century AD) and Islam (1.3 billion; founded in the seventh century AD).
The debt the world owes to Judaism is incalculable. And its most visible celebration is the week–long Festival of Lights, Hanukkah!
Though not part of Judaism, we Christians also celebrate the coming of light, as Isaiah
wrote: "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned” (Isaiah 9:2). The focus of our Christmas celebration (whether one day, 12 days or 365) is the Light of the World, Jesus Christ the Lord.
*The views expressed in this blog are in no way intended to represent the views of Child Evangelism Fellowship©.They are exclusively the expressed views of Curtis Alexander.
 Did you hear about the woman who received a pet parrot for Christmas? She hoped it would provide conversation and companionship.
The day after Christmas she took the bird back to the pet store. “This parrot won’t talk,”she complained.
“Does he have a mirror in his cage?” the clerk asked. “Parrots love mirrors. They see their
reflection and start chattering away.” She bought one.
Soon she was back—the colorful bird still wasn’t talking. “How about a ladder? Parrots love ladders. A happy parrot is a talkative parrot.” She purchased a ladder.
Before long there the woman was at the pet store again, waiting for it to open. “This silly bird just won’t talk," she complained bitterly. “I want a refund.”
“I just figured it out,” pet man replied. “Buy a swing. Parrots are very playful. Do you have a swing?”
“No, I don’t” the frustrated bird lady said, her eyes flashing fire.
“Well, then, you’re in luck. I happen to have a very nice swing on sale.” She reluctantly bought a swing for the silent bird.
When she walked into the store the next day, the disgruntled woman announced, “The parrot is dead!”
The store owner was shocked. “Tell me,” he asked, “did it ever say a word?”
“Yes, right before it died,” she retorted. “In a weak voice it asked me, ‘Don’t they sell bird feed at that pet store?’ ”
Sometimes we tend to forget the most basic and elementary things—like, why do we even have a Christmas to celebrate?
Dr. John Maxwell is fond of saying, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing!” And at Christmas, the main thing is to celebrate a loving Savior who didn’t have to come to earth for us, but He came anyway. As Romans 5:8 says, “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
The earthly birth of Jesus Christ was a necessary preamble to His death and resurrection to rescue lost humankind. And for Christ, rescuing sinners is the main thing.
(If you don’t want to receive this Blog, just hit ‘Reply’ and tell me to delete your address).
Feel free to use this in your own sermon (or un–sermon), lesson, or just around the water cooler. Don’t bother to credit me, since I can’t always remember where I heard them, either.
*The views expressed in this blog are in no way intended to represent the views of Child Evangelism Fellowship©.They are exclusively the expressed views of Curtis Alexander.
This is the second Blog post in this year’s Advent season. Enjoy!
{This story has been told in varied ways by many storytellers. One of the best was written by Dina Donohue, printed in Christmas Stories for the Heart, published by Multnomah Publishers ©1997, 2000. The following version features my own take on the particulars.}
Little Billy Bight was nine the year he changed history. Okay, he wasn’t so little, and he was only in the second grade, not the fourth grade where he belonged. Everyone in Gotham knew Billy had trouble keeping up with the other kids his age. He was big and slow and clumsy, though in an oddly endearing way. Whenever they chose up teams for a game of kick ball or basketball or . . . well, anything . . . no one wanted Billy. And he knew it. But he longed to be included.
Truth be told, Billy was kind and certainly inclusive, always with a smile (a goofy one) for everyone, and he was forever on the side of the underdog.
 This year Billy hoped to play a shepherd with a flute in the church’s Christmas play, but Mr. Wysong, the director, assigned him a “more ‘important’ ” role, one without so many lines, at a place in the story where Billy’s size would suggest uncaring, unfeeling intimidation—Billy would be the
innkeeper who issued the verbal “No Vacancy” to Joseph and Mary for the night in question.
The usual large audience, armed with its ubiquitous camcorders, gathered the last Sunday evening before the Big Day, ready for the crèches, beards, crowns, bathrobes, halos, cotton–ball sheep and myriad paraphernalia needed to tell The Greatest Story Ever Told. No one was more excited than William Bight, the clumsy–yet–kindly innkeeper tasked with playing the heavy in this year’s poignant story of God–come–to–earth.
When Joseph appeared, gently guiding Mary–with–the–pillow–stomach to the inn door, Billy was there to head them off.
“What do you want?” he demanded ferociously.
“We need a place for the night,” Joseph replied, cringing.
“There’s no room here,” growled Billy.
“Sir, we’ve asked everywhere. And as you can see, my wife is great with child.”
“There’s no room in this inn for you,”Billy replied, but with markedly less bark than before, and no bite in sight.
“Oh, kind sir,” Joseph meekly argued,“surely you wouldn’t turn this tired, pregnant woman out into the cold night with no roof over her head!”
The innkeeper relaxed his stiff stance and glanced down at the timid couple. There was a long pause, long enough for the audience to grow restive and a little embarrassed.
“No! Be gone!” the prompter whispered from the wings.
“No!” Billy croaked, his bottom lip quivering, “Be gone!”
Joseph hung his head, put his protective arm around Mary and slowly turned to walk away. But it was simply too much for Billy Bight, Bethlehem Bouncer.
“Wait, Joseph” Billy shouted. “Don’t go. Bring Mary back.” His face broke into a glorious smile. “She can have my room!”
I don’t know about you, but I kind of like Billy’s revision of history.
And I pray you will make room for Mary’s Boy this season.
*The views expressed in this blog are in no way intended to represent the views of Child Evangelism Fellowship©.They are exclusively the expressed views of Curtis Alexander.
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