I don't believe that Jesus Christ was born on December 25. I believe that if you did a little historical snooping, you'd find that that date probably isn't anywhere close. However, I do believe in Jesus. I do believe He was born… sometime, and that there is probably a really good reason why we don't know the exact date.
It's not the date that’s important anyway-- it's the event. Isn't it amazing how just the thought of a little baby, wrapped in simply cloth and asleep in a hewn-out trough compels us to be more courteous and thoughtful over 2,000 years later?
In remembering His birth, hopefully, I will remember His life. Jesus not only toddled, He walked on water; His mother fed him. He fed thousands; As a baby, He cried when He was in need. As an adult, He prayed; As an infant, He snuggled on his dad's lap. As a man, children snuggled on his; As a baby he needed. As a Savior, He gave; As a child, He played hide & seek. As God, He doesn't.
His birth was a miracle. His life was a challenge. His death was a triumph. Jesus is to be celebrated on all three counts, not simply one day a year, but everyday… with joy!
Blessed Christmas, dear ones…