Lisa Barry: Hi, this is Lisa Barry of Gateway To Joy. As the Christmas holiday draws nearer, we want to be the first to set a festive mood for you. There are few things that get us in the holiday spirit more than hearing stories. Some may be new; a few are older than the hills. But they all have one thing in common: They invite you to stop what you're doing, to relax and enjoy.

For the next two weeks, Elisabeth Elliot will be reading stories for Christmas. We begin with one called "God Came Down." That's what's coming up next on this Monday edition of Gateway To Joy.

Elisabeth Elliot: "You are loved with an everlasting love." That's what the Bible says. "And underneath are the everlasting arms." This is your friend Elisabeth Elliot, beginning today a series of Christmas stories.

I want to read the Christmas story, first of all, from the Book of Luke. So familiar to all of you, but does it ever get old?

"There were shepherds living out in the field, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shown around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today, in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you. He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.

Suddenly, a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace to men on whom His favor rests.' When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.' So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen Him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told."

The most beautiful Christmas poem that I know is by Richard Crashaw written back in the 17th century: "That the great, angel-blinding light should shrink his blaze to shine in a poor shepherd's eye; that the unmeasured God so low should sink as prisoner in a few poor rags to lie; that from His mother's breast, He milk should drink, who feeds with nectar heaven's fair family; that a vile manger His low bed should prove, who in a throne of stars thunders above; that He whom the sun serves should faintly peep through clouds of infant flesh; that He, the old eternal Word, should be a child and weep; that He who made the fire should fear the cold; that heaven's high majesty His court should keep in a clay cottage, by each blast controlled; that glory's Self should serve our griefs and fears, and free eternity submit to years-let our overwhelming wonder be."

That poem speaks to me of the unutterable, unimaginable, unspeakable humiliation and self-emptying that our Lord Jesus accepted in order to become a man on earth and be able to show us in a man's life what God is like. He, who was the great angel-blinding light, shrank His blaze to shine in a poor shepherd's eye. He, who drank milk from His mother's breast, was the One who feeds with nectar heaven's fair family. His bed was nothing but a cow's feeding trough, a manger. He, whom the sun serves, was now peeping through clouds of infant flesh; that He, the old eternal Word, should be a child and weep. Praise God for the wonder of Christmas.

We've talked about mothering being holy work. Let's think about that little Mary. For some reason, I think of her as a little girl. Probably a teenager, because in those days Hebrew girls would be married when they were 13, 14 or 15. We see that little Mary as a simple village girl in a poor home in an out-of-the-way place. She's bending over her work, when suddenly the light changes. She raises her eyes. A dazzling stranger stands before her with a puzzling greeting. He calls her "most favored one" and tells her the Lord is with her. She is stunned.

I don't believe her thought is of herself, "Who am I?" or "Am I ever lucky!" Mary is troubled. She discerns at once that this has to do with things infinitely larger than herself, far beyond her understanding. What can it mean? The angel doesn't weigh in immediately with the stupendous message that he has been sent to deliver. He first comforts her. "Don't be afraid, Mary." He calls her Mary. She is not a stranger to him. He is assuring her that he has the right person. He explains what she has been chosen for: to be the mother of the Son of the Most High, a King whose reign will be forever.

She has one question now. Not about the Most High. Not about an eternal King. Those are things too high for her. But motherhood is another matter. She understands motherhood. She has been looking forward to it with great happiness. Her question is about that. "How can this be? I'm still a virgin."

The angel doesn't really explain. He simply states the mystery. "The power of the Most High will overshadow you." He goes on to tell of another miraculous pregnancy, that of her old cousin, Elizabeth, well past child-bearing age. God's promises can never fail, he says. They won't fail for you, Mary. Rest assured.

How will the girl respond? She is at once totally at the disposable of her Lord. She sees that the visitor has come straight from him. Whatever the mystery, whatever the divine reasons for choosing her, whatever the inconveniences, even disasters-maybe a broken engagement, maybe she would be stoned to death. That would be the punishment of a fornicator. Even the disasters which she may be required to face, her answer is unequivocal and instant. "Here I am. I am the Lord's servant. Let it be as you have told me."

We see her next with Elizabeth, who by the manner of Mary's greeting and by her own baby's sudden movement in her womb, knows immediately that God has chosen Mary to be the mother of the Lord. They don't sit down over coffee and natter about the gynecology or the practical logistics or what people are going to say. Mary sings her song of gladness, a thoroughgoing acceptance of the gift, of trust in the Mighty One.

The next time we see her, she is sweating in the cold of the stable, putting her own life on the line, as every mother must do in order to give life to somebody else. We see her with the tough shepherds, breathlessly telling their story of the glory of the Lord and the singing of the angel choir. Everyone else is astonished, a word which comes from "thunderstruck." I didn't know that until I looked it up, but the word "astonished" comes from "thunderstruck." But Mary doesn't join in the excited babbling. She is quiet, treasuring all these things, pondering them deep in her heart.

We see her with the mysterious travelers from the East, bringing their lavish gifts. She says nothing as they kneel before the baby she holds in her arms. We see her on the donkey again, on the roundabout journey to Egypt, because her husband has been given a secret message in a dream. She doesn't balk. She doesn't say, "Why are we doing this?" She doesn't argue.

We see her in the temple, handing over her baby to old Simeon, to whom the Holy Spirit has revealed the child's amazing destiny, a revelation to the heathen, glory to Israel. But to Mary, he gives a far deeper message of suffering, for there is no glory that is not bought by suffering. Her Son will suffer. He will be a sign which men reject. She, His mother, will suffer, will be pierced to the heart. But no question or answer from her is recorded. We know only her silence.

I love to think of Mary's silence. Do you realize that we know almost nothing of anything that she said, except when that first angel came to give her the message? She was silent. She was told when the baby was only eight days old that a sword would pierce her soul. You mothers know the truth of that, don't you? That little baby, that precious little package, on the day that he or she is born, is the most priceless treasure that you can imagine. Yet that very child may pierce your soul someday. Suffering is part of motherhood, isn't it? Thank God for the willingness of Mary to be the bearer of the Son of God.

Lisa Barry: Well, I hope you've enjoyed our first installment of STORIES FOR CHRISTMAS. I know many of you will want to get a copy of this series for yourself. Wouldn't it be great to make a tradition out of gathering the family around to listen to holiday tales? Those are the kinds of memories that last a lifetime.

As I said, the title to ask for is STORIES FOR CHRISTMAS. The cost is $13, which includes shipping and handling. You can send that, along with your request, to Gateway To Joy, Box 82500, Lincoln, Nebraska, 68501. Or call 1-800-759-4JOY. Our Internet ministry address is gatewaytojoy.org. That's 1-800-759-4569. Gateway To Joy has been a production of Back to the Bible.

Tomorrow Elisabeth continues reading the story of Mary, so be sure and join us then for the next Gateway To Joy.