My Best Christmas Toy

 

 

My best Christmas toy ever

Was a frowning clown,

Never before or after

Have I seen one around.

 

That made me special:

Me and my special clown,

That clown I had for Christmas

With the frown.

 

It was red and white

And wore black shoes,

Oh no, it was not Santa Claus;

I am not confused.

 

I know the difference

Between Claus and Clown,

Santa Clause has a white beard

And my clown, a frown.

 

But there is more

About my Christmas clown,

The one dressed like Santa

But with a frown.

 

 

He had a long string

Like a tight rope

And he would ride along it

As best as I could cope.

 

He had balancing sticks

Attached to two balls

So he could ride his unicycle

And not fall.

 

He’d ride on the string

Up and down,

My special Christmas clown

With the frown.

 

One end of the string

Was securely fixed

While the other in my hand

Would do the trick.

 

By raising and lowering

I could set the speed

And he’d ride on that string

For as long as I need.

 

I was probably nine

Back at that time

And that clown was always

On my mind.

 

Every waking hour

I spent with my clown

Lit up my face with a smile

Though he had a frown.

 

I was an expert

And he was as good

As we made fun together

As long as I could.

 

 

Clown on a tight rope

I will never forget,

It was great that Christmas

When we first met.

 

Now for the sad part

When we parted ways,

It must have been sometime

After Christmas Day.

 

Trying to go to fast

He had a fatal fall

And though I tried to fix him

Nothing worked at all.

 

We had a good time

My clown and I

He was my best Christmas toy

But then he died.

 

I’ve grown up since

And I miss him no more

And Christmas means far more

Than it did before.

 

Stewart Russell © December 18, 2024

 

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

 

 

At this time, we celebrate

The birth of Jesus Christ,

A light to lighten the Gentiles

To the Jews a sacrifice.

 

Some disregard his birth

And see it as insignificant

Especially when compared to his death

And also, his resurrection.

 

But how could he have died

If he had never been born

And how could there be a resurrection

Without a first Christmas morn?

 

Call me pagan, if you will,

Or even heathen. for all I care

Simply because I celebrate Christmas

Indicating Jesus was here.

 

 

For understand this carefully

At least, I am not an antichrist

For I believe Christ came in the flesh

To be my eternal sacrifice.

 

How could he have done this

Had it not been for his birth?

Would you not think it significant

To celebrate his coming to earth?

 

Would you rather celebrate

Jolly old St Nicholas

And tell the myth of Santa Claus

Instead of the birth of Jesus?

 

As for me, I say, “No way!”

For such is a travesty

And to ignore the Saviour’s birth

Is simply a colossal tragedy.

 

The story of my redemption

Is believing that wonderful triad,

Jesus’ birth, death and resurrection

Is more than a festive fad.

 

 

He came, he died and rose again!

Hence, none is more significant,

The three are beautifully woven together

In a tapestry resplendent.

 

It’s a trinity, If you may,

Like the Father, Son and Spirit

So, let me celebrate my Saviour’s birth

As is my yearly habit.

 

Happy birthday, Jesus!

For as a babe you came to earth,

Happy birthday, Jesus!

I dare to celebrate your birth.

 

 

At the birth of the Lord Jesus

There was angelic acclamation

The hosts of heaven rejoiced

At the coming of Divine salvation.

 

The fact that the Son is come

Was established in his birth

That very first Christmas Day

When heaven fill the earth.

 

Stewart Russell © December 22, 2020

 

A Christmas Critique

 

Just recently

I was shaken in my Christmas spirit

By a video presentation

From a religious critic.

He called me a heathen

Because I celebrate Christmas,

And a hypocrite

Because I engage in the fuss.

He took a swipe at Santa Clause

And at the Christmas tree,

And that all year we neglect the poor

But at Christmas give a treat.

 

He quoted from Jeremiah

In chapter 10 verses 1 to 4

There he cited the decorated tree

That the heathen bowed before.

He shook me in my spirit

With his harsh criticisms

As he ransacked our Christmas traditions

  And its pagan like customs.

 

 

He spoke to the nativity scene

We have of the baby Jesus

And said we should throw it in the garbage

Along with the other stuff.

He knocked the date of birth

That Christmas commemorates,

And castigated Christians who celebrate it

As a bunch of hell-bound fakes.

He quoted from the Gospel of Luke

In chapter 1 verse 26

Showing the timing of Jesus’ birth

To be an erroneous mix.

 

 

He showed December is wrong

And certainly the twenty-fifth

And that by celebrating on this date

We condone a biblical shift.

Your pastor is a liar

And so too your mamma

For all of these damned lies

That they have been “telling to yuh.”

Strong language indeed

And harsh are these criticisms

But perhaps it is an opportune time

To re-examine our Christmas traditions.

Christmas has become a sacred cow

For most professing Christians

And the tendency to go overboard

Is their prevailing custom.

 

 

 

The X in Christmas is working

To take Jesus Christ out

And, that Christmas is about everything else

To my mind, there is no doubt.

My plea, therefore, this Christmas

Is that we take a conscious look

At all we are doing to celebrate Christmas

And get back to the Holy Book.

Stewart Russell © December 2019

The Myth and the Gift

One was fat

And somewhat rotund

Just about the mid-section

Quite a belly was found

One was slim

And walked everywhere

And though he was hated

For all he cared

One differentiated

Between the naughty and nice

The other for all

Became a sacrifice

One focuses on children

And gifts he brings to them

The other sees all as children

And died to save from sin

One prefers reindeer

And the cold night air

That’s when he makes deliveries

At a certain time each year

One makes no distinction

Be it morning, noon or night

He is always delivering

People from their plight

One slips down the chimney

With beard as white as snow

And thereby exits again

With nothing black to show

One came down from above

He was the spotless lamb

He gave his life for one and all

This was the Father’s plan

One leaves his gift

At the foot of a tree

The other was God’s gift

On a tree at Calvary

  

One is the perennial myth

About a workshop and elves

The other is the truth

Told in a book on our shelves

One is about a season

That comes once a year

The other is for all seasons

An all year affair

The former is a myth

Enjoying universal approval

The latter is a life saving truth

And its resistance is global

One brings satisfaction

Of the fleeting kind

The other satisfies and sanctifies

The soul and the mind

One is expected to return

On every Christmas Eve night

When the other returns

It will be the Christians’ delight

By now you should know

Who these two persons are

The world gravitates to one

The other is less popular

There is no comparison

Between the myth and the Gift

It’s like chalk and cheese

If you catch my drift

I trust that as you read

You would have been stirred

And would boldly say right now

It’s the Gift I prefer

By the world’s glitz and glamour

No longer be drawn away

Accept Jesus into your heart

Do it my friend without delay

Stewart Russell © May 2018