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CHRIST-mas among Terror

It is the morning after…the cold in the air and shock that lingers in Germany.


A driver plowing through the mass of people, killing at least 12. A driver driven with evil in his heart, killing flesh and blood on a Christmas Market right in front of a church. A driver so easy to slash in my own broken heart.


It was my son’s turn to say the nightly prayer. Reminding him to remember the victims of this brutal attack. “Son, don’t forget to pray for those who were killed today, but not for this evil bastard”, I said.


My son looked at me as he knows that brokenness needs not more broken, but prayer. Oh, he caught my heart.



Caught in my own words now the heart just spilled the beans over the sharp-edged tongue. Piercing the wounds of Jesus.

How in the world can I pray for this man who is in my eyes nothing but driven by evil?

How can I pray for a man when others are pinned down under the crushing weight of an 18wheeler? You hear the moaning of pain and screams for help, as others lost their voice forever.

The Christmas Market now in silence.




Oh that Jesus talk again. Just for a moment I rather just hate and just for this moment I rather slice and rip this man soul into pieces with my thoughts and don’t ever offer a prayer to this inhuman little being.




I want to hold my hands to the ears to get this Jesus talk out of my mind for just a moment. Can I be this honest with you?


“But Lord, this man killed the innocent.” I want to be…..


“Silence!” He speaks to my soul.


The murderer got freed from jail as Jesus stayed behind. His eyes just watching as the wrong go free. But that is as it should be. The bad go free?

The murderer and rebel off to freedom as Jesus was taken. An innocent God-man dragged around, then beaten, spit on, slapped, yelled at, laughed at, thirsty, in pain, crushed, and lastly nailed to the cross. Bleeding and moaning on the cross He hung and the other bad guy got off the hock.




Jesus died for that man. Tears down my face, He died for pitiful soul like mine. I would have stoned that man, my heart  already did. I am no better. He died for me, for the one who is so ready and fast to throw the first stone.



Jesus washes the feet of the broken. He sits down while I recline on the comfy chair, places my foot into His lap and begins washing the dirty feet. He washes the feet of sinners. The feet who all denied Him later, those feet that run away from Him and then back to Him. The feet that sin.


Your feet, my feet, and the feet of the murderer.



I don’t excuse any of the horrific action this pitiful soul has done. But learning, as it doesn’t come natural, to pray not only for the victims, but for the one who has done the evil with sinful feet and heart.





Joel 2:13 (NLT)

Don’t tear your clothing in your grief,
but tear your hearts instead.”
Return to the Lord your God,
for he is merciful and compassionate,
slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.
He is eager to relent and not punish.

God has unfailing love!


This Christmas-story of the God-man who was born with flesh and blood, this story of unfailing love, washing the feet of sinners, and taking the punishment of evil hearts.

What kind of Christmas story is that? It used to be the twinkling lights, presents, food and laughter.


This Christmas is about sadness, horror, pain, and JESUS. The reason He was born, taught, and died as an innocent man, but rose again so many can find Him.


Christmas is about unfailing love, to be merciful, compassionate, eager to relent and not punish.

The vengeance is His, not mine.


I walk out of my own prison cell of anger and bitterness about the evil done to my people as He stayed behind. I turn around and my eyes on His, He stayed there for me.


My prayer this Christmas is that you too walk out of your prison cell and know that the Christmas-story stayed for you, and you, and him, and her… all those who have hurt you, have been rude to you, ignored you, rejected you, betrayed you, cheated you.


He stayed so you and I could go free!


Who truly is this Jesus? Why is it so easy to be human and so hard to be like Jesus? It’s easy to talk about Him and be like Him when the lights flicker, the food is on the table, and the home is filled with laughter. Why is it so darn hard to be like Him when the lights were ran over with the wheels of evil and the silence lingers in the air with moaning voices were heard crushed?


Only Jesus, the true Christmas-story! He is the light that twinkles in ones heart, He is the food for the empty starving soul, He is the One that can drive evil out and revive the heart that drove the 18wheeler of hate.

Jesus can when I can’t.  So I pray as He washes my feet again and I repent of my own starving heart.


It is Christmas and it is the Only True One God. This my friends and enemies, this is His Story.


Christmas Market



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