REPORTING FOR DUTY

The little angel was so excited!  After all, this was his first mission as a Christmas reporter and he was anxious to do a good job.  Accuracy, that’s what his Master was counting on.  “See how they observe my Son’s birthday,” He had said.

His first stop was the church on the hill with the white steeple.  He opened his log book and began taking notes.  Such beautiful music!  He couldn’t help but compare the harmony to heaven’s choir.  The music stopped and a man stepped forward and began to read….yes, yes, he had the right story.  A tear or two was perhaps a sign that some were hearing it for the first time.  The little angel hurriedly made his entry.  ‘The warmth of this place is refreshing, almost like home.  Some people are clothed very nicely, some very poorly; but they all have twinkling eyes, bright smiles and happy hearts. They're singing about you and to you.’  Anxious to see more, he closed his book and smiled his biggest smile since the Baby was born.

The next stop would be that house where smoke was coming from the chimney and a delightful smell from the kitchen.  And while he had never tasted that thing called gingerbread, the scent could only be described as heavenly.  It didn’t take him long to know what to write about this place.  ‘Warm hearts and hands abide here.  Boxes of something called goodies are lined up to be delivered.  I heard her say she’s sharing food and Jesus at a shelter tonight.’  Again he closed his book and smiled, pleased with what he would have to report.

On to the shopping center.  He chuckled when he saw all the lights and thought to himself, ‘They aren’t half as bright as ours. . .and ours are free!’   As he watched the shoppers, his joy began to fade.  He began writing, but this time a little slower.  ‘The mouths are smiling, but the eyes are impatient…much grumbling…shopping carts full of plastic toys…short  tempers…advertising…enterprising…27 shopping days till Christmas…Frosty on the radio…jingle bells…sugar plums.’  Sadly confused and with much less enthusiasm, he closed his book and shook his head in disbelief.

Last stop – an office Christmas party.  Never could he have imagined anything like this!  Surely this couldn’t be in honor of the Baby!  Maybe he wasn’t ready for this assignment after all.  Slowly, he began to write.  ‘I see lots of tinsel, fake trees and phony happiness…blurred thoughts…no sign of our Savior.  How did they change it to this?  Sir, I regret to report ...it appears that, for many, Bethlehem and Baby Jesus have been left behind.’

                                     The little angel closed his log book again…and wept.