“Can anything good come from Racine?” That was the question people were asking me over 16 years ago while I was in Kentucky holding the call to Epiphany.

I had no idea where Racine was or what it was like. People who lived elsewhere in Wisconsin told me all kinds of negative stories about Racine. I was specifically instructed to make sure I knew which church in Racine I was being called to. They said one church was in a good neighborhood. The other church was in a bit rougher neighborhood.

God is referring to his Son and servant Jesus when he refers to him as Israel in our Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, “You are my servant Israel, in whom I will display my glory” (Isaiah 49:3). Jesus will display God’s glory to the nations.

We hear a lot about God’s glory throughout the Old Testament. “High above all the nations is the Lord. His glory towers above the heavens” (Psalms 113:4). “Then they will sing about the ways of the Lord, because the glory of the Lord is great” (Psalm 138:5). “Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name. Bring a gift and come into his courtyards” (Psalm 96:8).

As a child, I would get Atari 2600 games and Legos for Christmas. My two sisters would get things like Barbies and clothes. My dad would get tools. He would get quarts of oil for his tractors, crescent wrenches, screwdrivers and hammers. I always thought, “Wow! That’s so boring!”

Decades later, when I started adulting, I enjoyed receiving tools for Christmas. Tools are just toys … with more power!

This year I received a Milwaukee cordless drill and bits. I love it!

Tools are useful presents. A crescent wrench for fixing plumbing. A Dremel for woodcarving. A voltage tester for replacing wiring.

Growing up, my cousins and I would give our Christmas lists to our Grandma. We each put different toys and games on our list. But then our moms must have added underwear to all our lists. There aren’t any kids who actually ask for underwear.

Except, that’s precisely what everyone of us got one year for Christmas.

I still distinctly remember the disappointment I felt as a child one Christmas. I was with my family at my grandparents’ home on Christmas Eve. We were exchanging gifts. One of my uncles and aunts had my name. I excitedly opened the present. It was a little Hot Wheels truck. Now, Hot Wheels were always cooler than Matchbox, but I was still disappointed. I don’t know what I wanted that year for Christmas, but I guess I didn’t want a Hot Wheels pickup truck.

This past year has been a big disappointment, hasn’t it? So many events have been canceled. So much civil unrest. So much lost time in the classroom. So much loneliness, sniping, accusations and mistrust.

Since David was made king, God has blessed him with victories over ancient enemies like the Jebusites and Philistines. Now David is in the unique situation where there is peace and quiet around him. We’re told, “It happened that when the king was living in his palace, and when the Lord had given him rest from his enemies” (2 Samuel 7:1).

As David relaxed in his beautiful, brand new palace, something struck him as being terribly wrong. It didn’t seem right that he was resting comfortably in a palace fit for a king while the ark of the covenant of the King of heaven and earth was stuck in the tabernacle.

Jesse is the head shepherd, overseeing the flocks of sheep in the pastures outside Bethlehem. His father, Amos, is out in the fields this night. Jesse’s younger brothers are with them. Jesse’s oldest son, Malachi, has finished his homework and has joined his dad in the fields for a few hours to learn the family business.

The angels have left the Bethlehem skies. The shepherds’ hearts have stopped pounding. They have been able to herd the sheep together after they ran away when the glory of the Lord appeared over them.

There was no spark of life in him. There was no flicker of joy in his heart. Life had become a mere existence. He didn’t want to hold on anymore.

He had lost track of the number of sleepless nights he had spent on his “mattress” – if you could call it that. The days spent in darkness and isolation had begun to run together long ago. Thoughts of escape no longer occupied his mind.

He had lost hope.

Jesse is the head shepherd. He is in the field outside Bethlehem with his dad and younger brothers. Tonight, Jesse’s twelve-year-old son, Malachi has finished his homework and joined his dad, grandpa and uncles in the family business.

It is the Hebrew month of Tebeth (our month of December). It is late in the evening. The sheep are relaxed. They have plenty of shepherds around to protect them from predators like wolves or lions or bears.

It is dark and quiet and calm.

Many of you know that I’m colorblind. My sisters think that I just never learned my colors.

When people learn I’m colorblind, the first reaction is to usually ask me, “What color is this? What color is that?”

Every once in a while, because I know they’re both intrigued and teasing, I’ll challenge them, “Do you ask a blind person, ‘What does this look like?’ or a deaf person, ‘What does this sound like?’”

I understand where they’re coming from. It’s hard for someone who sees colors to imagine what it’s like not being able to distinguish blue from purple or not see shades of yellow and green or have no clue what color periwinkle is.