“This year has been as rough as they come.” I bowed my knee the morning of Christmas Eve. Ask and only believe, a Voice spoke to my heart. “What gift could my grief relieve? Show me the gift you would have me receive.”

I stood in line at a little store, and spent more than I could afford. Behind me a young child cried. “Please,” the mother begged as I turned to go. “Could you lend a little toward what I owe?” Milk and bread waited to be purchased, but I shook my head.

That afternoon I sat in a rough pew. A preacher stood in a worn out suit. “A little goes a long way,” he called, “To reach all with the good news of God’s pardon.” My arms folded, my face hardened. “It only takes a few,” he said. Then I’m not needed, I shook my head.

Headed home late that evening, my prayer unanswered, My voice unheeded. A haggard man in ragged attire raised a sign saying, For Hire. “Thief,” I thought. “What the world needed is a little fewer of the basest people.” Turning from his pleading, I shook my head.

Kneeling once again before my bed, my head hung in disappointment. “Where is the promised gift?” I said. “Today I met only those wanting what little left of my hard earned money.” I laid upon my bed in discontentment. When a soft Voice spoke, reprimanding.

A Child, a Preacher, and One mocked as a thief—the least of these are as my Son. No greater Gift was ever given than the One who gave all so you could have heaven. No greater gift could you ever get than to give to those who never can repay the debt.