A Truly White Christmas
By: J.B. Hixson, Ph.D.
12/19/2019
A Truly White Christmas
“Come now, and let us reason together,” Says the Lord, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)
Here in the Rocky Mountains, we get more than our share of snow. Indeed, we measure snow in feet not inches. Much of wintertime is spent tuned in to the Weather Channel watching the forecast and reading the advisories. Travel through the mountain passes can be treacherous with blizzards, whiteouts, and icy roads. By March we are longing to see more green and less white. But in spite of these seasonal hardships, I just cannot seem to shake my romantic relationship with that first snowfall of winter.
There is nothing quite like it. Watching the snowflakes float effortlessly toward the ground… Seeing rooftops and roads slowly turn white… Beholding the tall pines as they become draped in snowy gowns... Something about it seems to fill the air with the aroma of smoke even before the first fireplace lights up.
Then as November gives way to December, and the brown and orange decorations of Thanksgiving transform into red and green, I begin dreaming of a white Christmas. Bing Crosby's classic fills my mind and filters out over my lips with a hum. Yet, as special as it is to wake up to see the sun gleaming off of snow covered mountain peaks on Christmas morning, we must never forget that there is really only one way to have a truly white Christmas. A tragic story illustrates this point.
The story is about a young man named Lindsay, whose father was not likely to win any father-of-the-year awards. His dad was particularly distracted during the holidays. He spent much of the Christmas season on the road, and when he was home he worked long hours and had a short temper with Lindsay.
Perhaps it was the stress of the season, or perhaps it was the alcohol, but Lindsay’s father was especially rough on him this time of year. Lindsay had to do extra chores on the family ranch and he endured regular whippings and verbal assaults when he did not live up to his father’s expectations. He was often belittled and humiliated.
Memories of this emotional and physical abuse followed Lindsay into adulthood. Every year at Christmas, these painful recollections flooded his mind, as if demons were tormenting him and holding him captive in a prison-house of despair. One friend said, “Lindsay was never able to find happiness. He became a hard-drinking hell-raiser who went from woman to woman and couldn’t find peace or success.”
On December 11, 1989, at the age of 51, Lindsay listened to Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” one last time. Then he put a gun to his head and a bullet through his brain. And that is the ironic and heartrending story of the life and death of Bing Crosby’s son—Lindsay Crosby.
Lindsay once said, “I hated Christmas because of Pop, and I always will. It brings back the pain and fear I suffered as a child. And if I ever do myself in, it will be at Christmastime. That will show the world what I think of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas.”
According to the Guinness Book of World Records, Bing Crosby’s White Christmas is the best-selling single of all time, with estimated sales in excess of 50 million copies worldwide. Nevertheless, the disheartening tale of Lindsay is a stark reminder that without Jesus to wash us whiter than snow, there can never be a genuinely white Christmas. Jesus Christ was born in Bethlehem that first Christmas morning 2,000 years ago so that our sins, though they be as scarlet, can be as white as snow.
This Christmas, as you look out the window at the gently falling snowflakes, remember the most important lesson of all: Jesus Christ was born in a manger so that He could grow up and die in your place on the cross. He rose from the dead and offers to everyone who believes in Him the free gift of eternal life. Have you trusted in Christ for salvation?
12/19/2019
A Truly White Christmas
“Come now, and let us reason together,” Says the Lord, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)
Here in the Rocky Mountains, we get more than our share of snow. Indeed, we measure snow in feet not inches. Much of wintertime is spent tuned in to the Weather Channel watching the forecast and reading the advisories. Travel through the mountain passes can be treacherous with blizzards, whiteouts, and icy roads. By March we are longing to see more green and less white. But in spite of these seasonal hardships, I just cannot seem to shake my romantic relationship with that first snowfall of winter.
There is nothing quite like it. Watching the snowflakes float effortlessly toward the ground… Seeing rooftops and roads slowly turn white… Beholding the tall pines as they become draped in snowy gowns... Something about it seems to fill the air with the aroma of smoke even before the first fireplace lights up.
Then as November gives way to December, and the brown and orange decorations of Thanksgiving transform into red and green, I begin dreaming of a white Christmas. Bing Crosby's classic fills my mind and filters out over my lips with a hum. Yet, as special as it is to wake up to see the sun gleaming off of snow covered mountain peaks on Christmas morning, we must never forget that there is really only one way to have a truly white Christmas. A tragic story illustrates this point.
The story is about a young man named Lindsay, whose father was not likely to win any father-of-the-year awards. His dad was particularly distracted during the holidays. He spent much of the Christmas season on the road, and when he was home he worked long hours and had a short temper with Lindsay.
Perhaps it was the stress of the season, or perhaps it was the alcohol, but Lindsay’s father was especially rough on him this time of year. Lindsay had to do extra chores on the family ranch and he endured regular whippings and verbal assaults when he did not live up to his father’s expectations. He was often belittled and humiliated.
Memories of this emotional and physical abuse followed Lindsay into adulthood. Every year at Christmas, these painful recollections flooded his mind, as if demons were tormenting him and holding him captive in a prison-house of despair. One friend said, “Lindsay was never able to find happiness. He became a hard-drinking hell-raiser who went from woman to woman and couldn’t find peace or success.”
On December 11, 1989, at the age of 51, Lindsay listened to Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” one last time. Then he put a gun to his head and a bullet through his brain. And that is the ironic and heartrending story of the life and death of Bing Crosby’s son—Lindsay Crosby.
Lindsay once said, “I hated Christmas because of Pop, and I always will. It brings back the pain and fear I suffered as a child. And if I ever do myself in, it will be at Christmastime. That will show the world what I think of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas.”
According to the Guinness Book of World Records, Bing Crosby’s White Christmas is the best-selling single of all time, with estimated sales in excess of 50 million copies worldwide. Nevertheless, the disheartening tale of Lindsay is a stark reminder that without Jesus to wash us whiter than snow, there can never be a genuinely white Christmas. Jesus Christ was born in Bethlehem that first Christmas morning 2,000 years ago so that our sins, though they be as scarlet, can be as white as snow.
This Christmas, as you look out the window at the gently falling snowflakes, remember the most important lesson of all: Jesus Christ was born in a manger so that He could grow up and die in your place on the cross. He rose from the dead and offers to everyone who believes in Him the free gift of eternal life. Have you trusted in Christ for salvation?
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