Here There Is Truth
By G. E. Shuman



Without a doubt, you are reading this column on a day very close to Christmas Day. (I hope you’re enjoying the season.) This issue of the paper likely appeared at your door, newsstand, or on your computer screen the night before Christmas or the day or two before that. I’m sure you could hardly wait, just as a child on Christmas morning, to tear into the wrapper or website, find my space, and begin to devour the many words of wit and wisdom contained herein. Yes, I am probably delusional, and definitely dreaming. Nevertheless, here we are, on this familiar page of your paper or screen, right where we always meet. I have to tell you, I love it here.
So, what do I say to you this time? What particular part of Christmas should we discuss at this moment in this special week? What angle on angels or wisecrack about wise men would work to enlighten or entertain us both? This year, I am not sure. It would be easy to rehash my great disdain for the crass commercialism of what, for some, has become one more decadent December, or to re-word The Night Before Christmas poem, just one more agonizing time. (I’m only thinking out loud, here.) Or, maybe I could expound again on how ‘Grinchy’ I often feel as shopping, stores, sales and Santa wear down my nerves more and more as the month wears on. I could easily entitle a column: Crushing Christmas Crowds and Cranky Children. Wow, could I ever! Or, perhaps I could preach to you about keeping Christ in Christmas, and the reason for the season. Both are overly-clichéd ideas that I happen to agree with strongly, by the way.
No, none of that strikes me as the way to go, right now, right here, this year. You and I have discussed and mutually pondered all of those things before. My small gift to you today is to keep this column short. I knew you would like that. A gift of time, saved, never has to be exchanged. (I just made that up. Not bad, huh?) I would also like to give you a few words of profound truth. They are certainly not my words, and are of far greater worth than any words I will ever compose. They are the words of three authors of old. They are words etched, not in stone, but in eternity, and will never be destroyed. They foretell the greatest gift the world has ever known. That gift is for you, by the way. So, here there is no Santa, nor sleigh, nor jingle bells, nor jolly elves. Here there is truth:
“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6
“And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.” Matthew 1:21
“For unto you” (Central Vermont) “is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:11.
Merry Christmas friends! Happy Birthday Jesus!