December 18th, 2024
by Matt Townsend
by Matt Townsend
Advent is a season to celebrate the first arrival of our King, Jesus, and the hope, peace, joy, and love He brings. Today, I want to focus on love.
Sometimes, it’s hard to measure the weight of these three little words: “I love you.” Let me try with a story.
My grandfather, Milo, was a stoic man—a WWII veteran and John Deere factory worker who showed love through hard work and loyalty, but not words. He was the stereotypical “silent generation” male. At his 50th wedding anniversary, my uncle, a talented musician, performed a heartfelt song to honor him. Grandpa gave a polite nod, maybe a faint smile, but little more. That’s just who he was.
Years later, as Grandpa’s health failed, my mom urged me to come home. At Friendship Village, where he spent his final days, I said goodbye. I reached out my hand and said, “Love you, Grandpa.” His typical response was always, “Stay out of trouble, Matthew,” or something more humorous. Grandpa always had a great, dry sense of humor. Yet, to my shock, he replied, “I love you too, Matt.” And then he said it again—twice more, as if to catch up on a lifetime of unspoken feelings.
That moment stayed with me. A few months later, after his funeral, I stood outside the church, lost in thought. Grandpa’s words echoed in my heart: “I love you, Matt.” For a man of few words, they meant everything. His hard work, dedication, commitment and loyalty to our family all those years gave such weight to those words. Though I can count on one hand the amount of times he said them, they carry incredible weight because they were filled with a lifetime of action.
When I look into the manger, I feel the same weight in heaven’s whisper: “I love you.” Those words aren’t just sentimental. They are proven by grit, sacrifice, and action.
Heaven’s King gave up His rights to wrap Himself in human flesh. The self-sustaining Creator of the universe became dependent on a teenage mother. The eternal Lord of riches became poor, the son of a carpenter. The One who shaped us in our mother’s womb became a woodworker in a humble town called Bethlehem.
The Sinless One retraced every misstep of Israel’s journey to live the perfect life we never could. The Blameless One bore the weight of our sin and shame at Calvary. The Guiltless Substitute gave His life so we, the guilty, might go free.
“I love you” isn’t just a sentiment. It encapsulates a life lived on our behalf and a sacrifice freely given for our sake. That is the love of Advent—the love of Jesus.
So, as you celebrate the birth of our Lord this Christmas, look beyond the sentimentality of cultural traditions and fix your gaze on the profound truth of the manger. In that humble setting, Heaven whispers to your soul, “I love you.” These words are not fleeting or insignificant—they carry the eternal weight of God’s redemptive plan and His boundless love for you.
Sometimes, it’s hard to measure the weight of these three little words: “I love you.” Let me try with a story.
My grandfather, Milo, was a stoic man—a WWII veteran and John Deere factory worker who showed love through hard work and loyalty, but not words. He was the stereotypical “silent generation” male. At his 50th wedding anniversary, my uncle, a talented musician, performed a heartfelt song to honor him. Grandpa gave a polite nod, maybe a faint smile, but little more. That’s just who he was.
Years later, as Grandpa’s health failed, my mom urged me to come home. At Friendship Village, where he spent his final days, I said goodbye. I reached out my hand and said, “Love you, Grandpa.” His typical response was always, “Stay out of trouble, Matthew,” or something more humorous. Grandpa always had a great, dry sense of humor. Yet, to my shock, he replied, “I love you too, Matt.” And then he said it again—twice more, as if to catch up on a lifetime of unspoken feelings.
That moment stayed with me. A few months later, after his funeral, I stood outside the church, lost in thought. Grandpa’s words echoed in my heart: “I love you, Matt.” For a man of few words, they meant everything. His hard work, dedication, commitment and loyalty to our family all those years gave such weight to those words. Though I can count on one hand the amount of times he said them, they carry incredible weight because they were filled with a lifetime of action.
When I look into the manger, I feel the same weight in heaven’s whisper: “I love you.” Those words aren’t just sentimental. They are proven by grit, sacrifice, and action.
Heaven’s King gave up His rights to wrap Himself in human flesh. The self-sustaining Creator of the universe became dependent on a teenage mother. The eternal Lord of riches became poor, the son of a carpenter. The One who shaped us in our mother’s womb became a woodworker in a humble town called Bethlehem.
The Sinless One retraced every misstep of Israel’s journey to live the perfect life we never could. The Blameless One bore the weight of our sin and shame at Calvary. The Guiltless Substitute gave His life so we, the guilty, might go free.
“I love you” isn’t just a sentiment. It encapsulates a life lived on our behalf and a sacrifice freely given for our sake. That is the love of Advent—the love of Jesus.
So, as you celebrate the birth of our Lord this Christmas, look beyond the sentimentality of cultural traditions and fix your gaze on the profound truth of the manger. In that humble setting, Heaven whispers to your soul, “I love you.” These words are not fleeting or insignificant—they carry the eternal weight of God’s redemptive plan and His boundless love for you.
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