We began by staying in a hotel in San Diego. In a few days the military transport ship would leave from the Naval station not far from our lodgings. There wasn't much for young children to do in the hotel so during the day we would walk the streets and peer into the department store windows. They had been decorated for Christmas and were full of animated displays. The carolers and snowmen moved through the same range of motions over and over again, but they were endlessly fascinating to my sister, my brother and me.

Sometime in that week it dawned on us that we would be on the ship for Christmas. We continued to stare into the store windows during our daily rounds. Each day the gifts on display in the shops seemed to stare back at us a little harder. Each afternoon my mother would go back to the hotel empty handed. My sister and I began to wonder.

The day to board the ship came. Our clothes went back in the suitcases. We watched as the bags were packed. There were only clothes in them, we were sure. The whole family piled into a cab and went down to the pier. We walked up the long gangplank. A crewman showed us to our cabin. It was incredibly small: one porthole, four bunks and a few square feet. Not long after we were settled, a low vibration began in the deck beneath our feet as the ship's engines engaged and picked up speed. We could hear a sustained blast from the ship's horn that announced our departure from the docks.

One day was like the next on the ship. It did not feel like Christmas was coming. There were no gifts under the tree. There was, in fact, no tree. Where could one have fit in our tiny cabin? There was no snow outside the porthole. All around the ship was the deep blue water of the endless sea. All the familiar markers of the season as we had known it were absent. How could we have Christmas in the middle of an ocean?

Christmas Eve came. My parents had told us all along that this Christmas would be different. We fell asleep to the same thrumming engine sounds that had pervaded the quiet of each night of our voyage. By this point we had very small expectations.

Light came with the morning and we opened our eyes. I rubbed my eyes to clear the sleep from them and looked up.

There was a wall of presents that reached from the deck to the porthole. The small size of our cabin only served to magnify the wonder of that very special Christmas morning.

How could this be? We were floored by surprise and excited beyond measure.

I was much older by the time I could appreciate what my parents had done. They must have worked for days while we were sleeping or otherwise distracted. Presents had been bought and wrapped. Steamer trucks had been packed and hidden, first in the hotel's baggage room and then in a ship's locker. On Christmas Eve they must have waited for us to fall asleep and while we slept they had brought forth what seemed to us to be a miracle. We did not receive what we had expected. We received far more than we knew.

If parents will go to such great lengths for their children, how much more so will God extended Himself for us?

The greatest gift ever given came as a surprise in a manger on the first Christmas day. Angels had made arrangements in the background. Shepherds gathered out of sight of the crowds. God loved us so much that he came to be with us in the flesh: not as a general, nor as a king. There was no palace. There were no armies: just a baby surrounded by straw. This was not the day that people had expected. It did not have the trappings some may have thought were necessary. But in this gift we have all received far more than we know.

Jesus came in profound simplicity. Born of Mary, a peasant. Worshipped first by shepherds, people on the margins of society. Come as baby, a symbol of powerlessness. Yet this holy infant will conquer the power of sin and death before his work is through.

If we need not fear either the lasting consequence of sin or the finality of death what is left to fear? Can we begin to see the fullness of this surprise present? The gift of our freedom came boxed in a manger on Christmas day.

How can this be?

We can no more fathom all the mechanics of God's plans than a second grader can comprehend the full range of their parents' thoughts and activities.

But we can be grateful. We can be full of wonder. We can accept the surprising choices that God makes and respond with praise as Mary and the shepherds did. We can kneel at the manger and adore the Christ child. All our prayers and hymns and carols tonight are opportunities to open ourselves to what God has already done and to give thanks.

We start our lives as infants and that is where the Christmas story begins as well. We grow into fuller stature over time and so did Christ. Along our way there is joy but also sorrow, and Jesus has walked that road too.

As the year progresses, the dawn of Christmas morning will be eclipsed for a time by the darkness of Good Friday but the Son will rise with first light on Easter morning. And when he rises, the resurrected Christ will draw us up as well.

God's surprising choice to be with us in the flesh has sanctified our whole existence. The entire range of human experience is connected to God through the life of Christ. It begins in the manger but the power and wonder of this greatest gift never ends.

As we receive communion this evening look down into your hands. There is the babe in the manger. There is the risen Christ. There is the sign of God with us.

When we awake in our homes tomorrow on Christmas morning may we see past the tree and the presents to the love that placed them there. As we consider the love we have for one another let us remember the love God first had for us.

Christ our savior is born for us on Christmas morn. Come let us adore him!