by Dr. Jack Hyles:
Matthew 10:39, “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for My sake shall find it.”
Christmas is a wonderful time of the year. I thank God that there is a season of the year when people turn their attention on others. Christmas is the season when firemen repair toys and make them well for little children. The service station attendant is more friendly than any other time of the year. The clerks are extra careful to say “Merry Christmas.” People share one with the other. We give to others. Christmas is the season when we take baskets of fruit and toys to the underprivileged. Christmas is the season when we take turkey and dressing to those who are hungry. Christmas is the season when we wish folks happiness. People are kinder than usual. Suddenly the blind man down the street becomes the object of our attention. During the Christmas season the hospitals are visited more than perhaps any other season of the year, the deaf are not forgotten, the poor are not overlooked, the shut-ins are visited with a little more care and attention, the rest homes are visited, and people, in general, are nice and courteous.
This week I got a letter from the manager of all the Burger Kings in this area. It was a wonderful letter! He said, “Dear Reverend Hyles: Fifty-five to sixty of your young people stopped by to eat at Burger King recently. I just wanted to tell you how they acted. I’ve never seen any young people order with more propriety. I’ve never seen them eat with more courtesy. I’ve never seen young people clean up their mess as carefully. Although I’m not a member of First Baptist Church of Hammond, and I do not live in your city, I thank God for the work you are doing. That’s the finest group of young people that has ever come to our place.”
I received a letter recently from a lady who said, “I was backing out of my drive in Schererville and I had a flat tire. A young man came by, stopped and helped me change the tire. I asked him, `What can I pay you?’ and he said, `You can pay me by attending the First Baptist Church of Hammond, where I go to church.’ Although I am not able to attend the church services, I do want you to take this $5 bill as an offering.”
I received a letter this week from one of our fine ladies. She said, “Pastor, thank you for teaching us to live for others.” Then she proceeded to tell about some wonderful things that she and others were doing for somebody else during the Christmas season.
Right over here, across the railroad tracks, there is a little blind lady who is an invalid and a shut-in. I received a wonderful letter this week from her husband, thanking the First Baptist Church of Hammond for all that we had done for her.
As your pastor, I want to exhort you this morning, and just love you a little while. I want to talk to you about life. Tonight I’ll preach to you a little harder. I’ll get mad at you tonight, but this morning I want to sort of rub on some salve. I will “pussy-foot” while I preach this morning.
When David was a little boy about three years old I’d say, “Son, what are you going to be when you grow up?” He’d say, “A PREACHER!”
“What kind of preacher will you be? An old fashioned, hell-fire and brimstone preacher or a pussy footer?” He’d say, “A foosty-footser.”
I am going to be a “foosty-footser” this morning. I wish I had time to tell you of all the wonderful things our dear people are doing. Folks don’t know. If I had the time, and if I were disposed to do so, I could talk until midnight tonight, and never repeat a story of what our people are doing for others during this holiday season.
Those of you who have been in our church for years know that I have stressed one word over and over again-“others.”
Lord, let me live from day to day In such a self-forgetful way
That even when I kneel to pray My prayer shall be for others.
Others, Lord, yes, others, Let this my motto be.
Help me to live for others That I may live like Thee.
This Christmas season has been marked with some wonderful stories. I could tell you about one of our teenage boys who had no Christmas at all so that a poor family could have Christmas. I could tell you about a college student who was having a hard time making it. He works most of the night to pay his tuition. He found another college student who was about to drop out of school, and he gave up his Christmas so that another college student could stay in school. I could tell you story after story, unbelievable stories, that would make headlines in any decent newspaper and be a blessing to unconverted people.
Christmas is so special. On Christmas Eve night you put tab “A” into slot “B.” You have a nervous breakdown, you lose your religion and you fall from grace because you are trying to assembly the electric train with the instructions that were meant for assembling an electric razor. About three o’clock in the morning you want to curse Santa Claus and die.
Then on Christmas morning, the little tots are so wide-eyed. They are so excited. They had left cookies and cakes for old Saint Nicholas to devour, but they never stop to wonder why Father and Mother have gained weight through the night. There’s the opening of the presents, the gluttony, the turkey, the dressing, the ballgame (where the Cowboys win in the last few seconds-thank you for your prayers!) and the activities of the day. Everyone enjoys the playing of a new game and trying to find the one part that is missing. Then there is the nibbling in the afternoon. You think when you have finished the Christmas meal that you will never eat again as long as you live; and you don’t . . . for fifteen minutes!
Then there comes the hard part of Christmas. Anybody who has ever enjoyed a Christmas Day knows that melancholy, empty feeling that comes on Christmas night. The beautiful tree that last night was banked with gifts is all of a sudden forgotten, with nothing but a few old pieces of paper lying around. The tree where once people had gathered, is now forsaken. Each one has gone alone to his own room. That melancholy, lonely feeling comes over you. That is the time when some nut on the radio has some symphony orchestra playing an opera. I love symphony music and I love opera, but it adds to the melancholy. The most melancholy thing of all is when you scan the pages of your checkbook!
Late on Christmas night you realize it is all overt What happened? Here it is. For a few days, you found the answer to life. For a few days, you really found the answer to what life is all about. You spent the entire year trying to be happy, and you were miserable, but for five or six days, you thought about the blind lady across the tracks. For awhile you thought about the deaf fellow who lives down the street. Though shopping is often a fallacy and materialistic and secular, nevertheless you did think of somebody. You said, “What shall I buy Uncle George?” or better still, “Which color socks shall I buy Uncle George this year? What shall I get Aunt Susie? What shall I get my little boy, Johnnie? What shall I get Mary?” Your mind was on somebody else besides yourself. You found the secret. You were happy for awhile, but all of a sudden you got melancholy. Do you know why? You got back to receiving again. It is a strange thing. The buying of all the presents made you happy, and thinking of somebody else made you happy, but opening your own presents left you melancholy! What really happened is that for a few days you found the answer, but then you lapsed back into what is not the answer. For one day you lapsed back into selfishness: “What will I get? What will I eat? How will I feel? What will it mean to me?” For a few days you had lived in the real answer to what life is all about.
Then comes the day after Christmas. The boxes are all carried out, and the dog scatters the garbage all over the yard, and as is the case at our house, all over several yards. The garbage collector wishes that he had been a plumber.
Wait a minute! On December 26, folks, that blind lady will still be across the tracks; forgotten, but she is still there. She will be as blind Tuesday as she is today. She will be as much in need as she is today. On Tuesday little bodies will wake up hungry. Tuesday night men will walk the streets of this area. They will be friendless, without their families and loved ones; they will be just as lonely as they are today. The hungry people are still there; the troubled people are still with us.
Listen! I used to be a poor little boy. I remember sitting in the room when suddenly somebody would knock on the door and say, “Thanksgiving basket from the church!” My mother would go to the door and get the Thanksgiving basket, I well recall. I would not have had shoes to wear had it not been for the church. I would have had no food to eat for Thanksgiving or Christmas had it not been for the church. As a little boy, looking up to the people who gave me that basket and those toys, I wondered if they were happier than I was about it. Oh, I was glad to get it! I loved to wear shoes, and I loved to eat. As a boy, I loved to open Christmas presents, but I used to look at those people and think, “Maybe they look happier than I look.”
Listen to me! Happiness is not wrapped up in unwrapping presents. Happiness is found in wrapping presents! Our Lord put it this way, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” We glibly quote it, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” but ladies and gentlemen, it IS more blessed to give than to receive! It is a thousand tim