When I Think of Baby Jesus Lying in a Manger

by Dick Buckingham, Administrator

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

This little Infant wrapped so tightly in the swaddling clothes and lying suspended on a bed of hay was as comfortable as His mother could make Him. And yet I’m sure I can hear crying.  He, though God the Son, was also completely human, and human infants cry.  The Bible doesn't specifically say that He cried, and our manger scenes always depict a pleasant faced Child, and even some of our carols claim “no crying He makes,” yet I am sure I hear crying.  Babies cry when they are hungry, tired, uncomfortable, or just when they want to be held and loved.  Jesus was a baby just like us, and had the same needs and desires, so I’m sure there must have been crying.  What led the shepherds to the manger where Jesus lay?  Yes, the angels told them they would find Him in a stable in Bethlehem, but there was certainly more than one stable.  Did they have to search each one of them until they found Him?  Or could it be as they entered the quiet, sleepy little town that they paused with hand cupped to ear, straining to hear the distinct sound of a newborn infant’s cry?

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

But perhaps it is not His cry that I am hearing.  Maybe I am hearing the future echo of wailing and weeping, mothers mourning the loss of their own young sons.  For it was to this very town King Herod sent his men in search of this One, but in the process of searching, all male children under two years of age were killed.  Oh, the mournful wails these mothers must have made as they grieved over their children.  Could it be that the Infant in the manger, though not responsible for their losses, grieved with them as He was the One who was targeted by this senseless decree?  Perhaps it is His tears of loss over these little ones that I hear in the manger.

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

Yes, I think it is the sound of mourning that I hear, the mourning of a mother in the funeral procession of her child.  But the town I see now is not Bethlehem, but the little village of Nain, and the woman, a widow; the dead child, her only son.  Yet the One from the manger is here too, grown now, and with great compassion He stops the procession, and for a moment, His face shows grief.  But then the tears of mourning on the mother’s face become tears of joy as the boy in the procession is raised to his feet by Jesus – alive!

But once again the sound of mourning fills my ears and I turn to see another parent pleading with Jesus to come, heal his sick child.  Jesus leaves with him immediately, but on the way a message is delivered to the father, “too late, the child is dead.”  Oh, had Jesus only been found sooner, if only they had rushed more quickly to her side.  But now only grief, and sorrow, and tears.  Yet Jesus walks on to the place where she lay and as before He raises her to her feet.  She too has been brought back from the dead!  Though Jesus warns the father not to tell anyone, he cannot contain the joy from bursting forth.

Once again the sound of crying is heard.  This time, in another place a woman in tears comes to Jesus.  It is difficult to tell what grieves her so.  Perhaps it is something within her that causes her to bow at His feet, and with her own tears she begins to wash His feet, and dry them with her hair.  Though Jesus is criticized for this woman’s actions, it is clear something wonderful has taken place.  She had entered the house a sinful worldly woman.  But now she leaves with tears of joy.  What just happened here?

There is no time to linger, as once again the sound of crying rings out.  Two sisters mourning at the loss of a brother.  And Jesus arrives much too late to save this man, a friend, not a stranger.  I am sure I see a tear on His face as well as he approached the tomb.  Others are present mourning the untimely loss of this member of the community.  In the midst of the wailing I hear Him cry out, “Lazarus! Come forth!”  And as before with the children, the dead man is raised to life and steps out of the tomb, no longer bound by the clutches of death.

Yet the crying continues and I am compelled to seek it once again.  This time it leads me to the hill outside of Jerusalem.  It is hard to approach for the crowds are there, shouting and jeering.  A mad howling mob.  I push my way to the front and am astonished by what I see.  There before me and all the rest of the crowd, three crude crosses with three men hanging on them in crucifixion.  What a commotion as the mob screams out their contempt for the one in the middle.  A small group of women stands mourning to one side.  Soldiers are casting lots for clothing at the foot of the central cross.  For a moment I study the face of the One to whom all this attention is directed.  He looks familiar, yet I’m not sure who it is.  He is so beaten and bloodied it is hard to make out.  Just then He cries out, “Father, forgive them.”  I look closer.  Wait!!  Could it be?  Yes!  It is Him!   It is the One who was in the manger.  Jesus, who raised the dead children to life, whose feet the woman had washed and who brought Lazarus out of the tomb.  It is He who hangs there – dying?  I don’t understand.  Could not the One who brought life to so many save His own?

Dazed and confused I begin to run for the sight is too much to bear.  There are thoughts I don’t understand running through my head.

I am startled once again as I come upon a single woman, kneeling before a tomb.  She is weeping.

  Could it be her child that lays here, perhaps her brother or husband?  It doesn't matter.  Jesus, the one who was able to turn tears like these into cries of joyous praise is dead.  He is no more.  Sorrow overwhelms me as I slip to my knees on the ground a distance from her.   I bow my head and begin to cry tears of my own.

But wait!  What is that sound?  I look up to see the massive stone that had been rolled against the tombs opening begin to move, slowly at first, but then more quickly.  I don’t know what is happening.  There is no one on the outside pushing the stone, it could only be someone…on…the inside.  Finally the stone is moved completely and my eyes are riveted at the entrance when what appears to be a man steps forward.  He leans down and raises the woman up.  He touches her face so tenderly.   When she sees Him, she cries out with joy and astonishment.  I look carefully at the man.  Could it be?  Yes!  Yes!  It is He!  It is Jesus!  He is not dead!  He is alive!  He who raised others to life has been able to defeat death Himself!

In my amazement and surprise, I failed to realize that the crying I have been hearing had not ceased.  Who could be weeping at a time like this?  I looked up to see that it was Jesus!  And He was looking at me!  “You are dead in your sins, my child,” He said to me.  “Come forth, come forth from your bondage to sin.  Let me set you free.”

Now I understand why the woman who had washed His feet with her tears was crying.  She had not lost a loved one whom Jesus had raised up again.  She had been dead in her sins and Jesus had set her free.  Now I understand the utter joy of the parents and the sisters as they welcomed back their loved ones.  I am alive!

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

They are my own tears of joy, for Jesus has given me life.

Do you hear the crying too?  Is Jesus weeping for you, calling you to come forth from your death in sin?  O come, O come, come to this One in the manger and let Him raise you to new life.

A New Kind of Mourning

by Jennie Smith
Secondary Principal


I'll admit it...I've lived a pretty charmed life.  My parents stayed together.  We weren't rich, but had everything we needed.  I went to Christian school, and I experienced very little tragedy in my youth.  I was in my 30's before I even experienced the death of a grandparent.  While I have felt the loss of friends, coworkers and extended family,  I have not had to face the deep grief of losing someone close to me until my recent past.

This year has been especially painful with the loss of my uncle, my husband's aunt, and my grandma all within a span of 9 months.  In these past few weeks, my thoughts have been swirling on the topic of grief.  I'm missing my grandma desperately.  I've never started a school year without her.  She was a great prayer warrior and she would always fervently pray for me as I started the school year.  She would pray earnestly as we took the high school kids on retreat - calling me and wanting to know which kids to pray for specifically, what messages to uphold.  She was my rock at the start of every school year and she's not here.  And my heart hurts.

I want to talk about it with the people who surround me.  But I find myself falling into the pit that so many in our culture are trapped by:  is it okay to mention your pain?  Can you talk to others about their grief?  I long to know how my family members are holding up, but I fear that just my asking may set them back or that my question may somehow increase their pain.  That seems so ridiculous, but it is the way my generation seems to approach grief.

It dawned on me that as a society we tend to treat someone who grieves in the same way we treat someone who has surgery.  When the surgery first happens, their wound is fresh in our mind.  We visit them in the hospital, we bring them food, and minister to them in a significant way.  Once their wound heals, we move on and don't think to ask how that particular area is anymore.  Once the funeral is over, it seems that we are expected to get back to work, move on, move past.  People are even afraid to ask how another is doing for fear of bringing tears or unwanted emotions.

Jen Pollock Michel in her article "Hashtags Won't Heal Us" sums it up well:  "As a culture, we tend to think of grief as healthiest when abbreviated and restrained, as seemingly quick and efficient as other aspects of our fast-forward, high-tech lives."  However, it wasn't that long ago that it was culturally dictated to wear mourning clothes for a specified length of time.  Everyone could visually see that a wound existed in the heart of a person.

So in our culture, how does one "mourn with those who mourn" as the Scriptures ask us to do (Romans 12:15)?  First, know that it is okay to ask a friend how he or she is doing.  We may have to overcome a nervous spirit, but it does mean so much that someone is thinking of your pain and cares enough to ask.  If that is too difficult, write a note - in a card or even a Facebook message - that simply says "I'm thinking of you.  I know your pain doesn't just disappear after the funeral is over.  You are on my mind and I'm here for you."

Don't be afraid to talk about the person lost.  It is good to know their life is not forgotten.  If there is some special memory you have or you appreciate something they did or said, share it with your friend. I love it when someone shares about my grandma - it reminds me that her life was meaningful and that she touched many people.

Recently a friend and I were in a deep conversation and she asked me "What would your grandma have told you?"  It made me cry - but it meant so much to have my friend bring my grandma's wisdom into our conversation.

Even though a grieving person doesn't wear mourning clothes, they still feel the pain of their loss and could use our understanding and sympathy - long after the funeral is over.  Is there someone you could reach out to today?



Michel, Jen Pollock.  "Hashtags Won't Heal Us."  Christianity Today.  April 29, 2013.

Loss, Grief, and a Measure of Hope

by Dick Buckingham, Administrator

and brother to Dan



Dan and Mr. B on Dan's wedding day

Since the last time I added to this space my oldest brother, Dan, was called home to be with the Lord suddenly and very unexpectedly.    While the days have been long and difficult, I have found God’s grace to be more than sufficient in this time.

While not an experience we consider common, death is the natural consequence of life, and it is an experience every family will face.  Sometimes you find yourself dealing with it when your kids are still young and under your watchful care.  How does a parent handle this kind of thing with their children?

Allow me to share a few thoughts, not only from my own recent experience, but also the observations I have made of families dealing with the loss of a loved one over the years.

It is OK to grieve.  We are all familiar with the shortest verse in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)  This verse comes at the graveside of Jesus’ friend Lazarus, just prior to the Savior raising him from the dead.  Many have speculated as to why this emotion of Jesus was expressed.  Certainly the Life-Giver had already determined to raise Lazarus up.  Was His sadness due to the lack of belief on the part of Mary or Martha or the others present?  The scriptures are silent on the reason and just leave us with the simple statement that Jesus wept.  Jesus grieved.  He understands our emotions as He is fully like us.  

The point I would like to make from this is that it is OK to grieve.  It is OK for men to grieve.  It is OK to grieve in the presence of others.  Sometimes we feel we have to be strong for our children or others and so we do everything we can to control our grief when with them or in public and save our times of mourning to when we are alone.  Your children will likely be feeling some measure of emotional pain at the loss and they really don’t know what to do about it.  Seeing you express your grief through crying will give them the courage to express their own pain in the same way.  This is healthy and will help them to move closer to healing.

 Everyone grieves differently.  Just from my own experience with my brother this was very evident.  My dad was the rock that he has always been.  Silent, strong, wiping a tear here and there, sharing something positive or changing the subject to divert his and everyone else’s suffering.  My mom, a strongly emotional woman, buoyed by God’s grace was able to be an initial encouragement to all the family members reminding them of God’s mercy in the situation.  Her grief later was deeper, more profound, more personal.  Me? Sobbing uncontrollably almost constant in the first few hours, then unpredictably, yet less frequent, as the days wore on.  The point is, there is no one right or any wrong ways to grieve and we need to accept that about each other.  The important thing is that each one grieves.  Grieving is natural and expected.  And healing.

How do you break the news to your children when they may be too young to fully understand?  This is such a tough question and so hard to give adequate answer.  We want our little ones to maintain a measure of innocence.  We want to protect them from any kind of pain, even emotional pain.  And yet we can’t just tell them grandma went on a really, really long vacation.  I personally don’t think it is ever right to lie to your children (a topic for another blog).  But I understand the desire to want to soften the hard blow that must be dealt our children in the area of death.  My best counsel would be, no matter what words you say, be sure to have them hear and help them to understand that death is normal, it is not the end, and that there is great hope for those who trust in Jesus.  In the account of Lazarus, his sister Martha tells Jesus that she knows her brother will rise again in the last day.  Jesus responds to her, “I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in me will live, even though he dies” (John 11:25).  This is both a profound and comforting statement.  Encourage your child that those who love and follow Jesus will live with Him in a wonderful place of peace, far away from this world of pain and suffering. 

My brother Dan loved the Lord and was brought to this place with Jesus sooner than any of us expected.  But now that he is there, we would not wish him to return to this life of suffering and hardship and pain.  He is in the best place imaginable and we have hope and confidence that we will join him thanks to the grace of God.