By Joe Grana
I was not raised in a church-going home. However, at Christmas we had a nativity scene displayed in our home. It took us a few days to decorate our live tree, carefully placing tinsel strand by strand along every branch. Each bulb and every light was equidistant from the others. My dad would use a ruler to make sure that happened.
Christmas Eve was a major family event. Every year we would go to my maternal grandparents’ home for a scrumptious dinner. My uncles, aunts, and a myriad of cousins would converge upon their one-bedroom home for the festivities. With so many people at such a small house, we kids were relegated to go outside to play in the snow. The most fun happened when one of my uncles would kick a football straight up in the air thirty feet and we kids would take turns trying to catch it on the way down. It was a badge of honor to catch the ball and then fall into the snow drift as if tackled. Gramma’s food was memorable. We all laughed and played. But I anxiously wanted to go home to open presents.
We always started at midnight. My father was first. He would guess what each gift was. He continually impressed me with so many correct guesses. As I grew older, I realized it was not too difficult to guess ties, shirts, and underwear! My mother would follow, then my sister. Finally, as the youngest, it was my turn. I was not a good guesser, but I was always excited with each present. Then … we put out cookies and milk for Santa, and I went to bed. In the morning Santa did not disappoint me, especially if I had more presents than my sister. Christmas was a time for giving but, especially, for receiving!
When I was ten, my grandfather died of a heart attack. Christmas became a different experience. We started searching for answers concerning life, death, heaven, hell, and Jesus. At the request of a cousin and neighbor we started to attend Central Christian Church of Waukegan, Illinois. We began to get the answers to the questions we were asking. Then it happened …
On Christmas Day, a Sunday, seventeen months after my grandfather’s death, God ‘spoke’ to us. In fact, he had been for a while. The service was ending. The minister gave an invitation to accept Jesus as Lord and Savior, and to be baptized. My mother and sister walked down the aisle. I did not know they were thinking about it. My grandmother was standing next to me during the invitation hymn. She was not a baptized believer, but whispered to me, “You should go too.” I did not know what to do. I hesitated. The congregation sang another verse. Then, I decided to join them. It was the best Christmas ever and they have never been the same since.
Dr. Joe Grana is the retired Dean of Ministry & Biblical Studies at Hope International University.
Author: Christian Standard
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