Holiday Biblical Characters: Finding My Stories in the Stories of Christmas and Easter

By David Waddell

As we read the stories of the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus its easy to believe we are removed from the stories and observe the events from afar.

In Holiday Biblical Characters: Finding My Stories in the Stories of Christmas and Easter David Waddell, author of Characters of the Bible: Finding My Stories in Their Stories, once again correlates stories from his life and finds similarity with the characters in the stories of the Bible. He finds himself offering gifts to the Christ child and later denying that he even knows Him.

In Holiday Biblical Characters: Finding My Stories in the Stories of Christmas and Easter, we can find comfort in knowing that while we are just like Biblical people, we too can know the grace God offers to all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512718898

David Waddell

David Waddell is a veteran of ministry leadership and currently teaches at the University of Mississippi. He is the published author of three books, Characters of the Bible: Finding My Stories in Their Stories, Holiday Biblical Characters: Finding My Stories in the Stories of Christmas and Easter, and Worship Wars: The Kings Lead the Battle to Spirit and Truth. David is a sought-after speaker and entertainer with his ability to laugh at himself. David enjoys time spent with friends and family, including his twelve grandchildren.

Book preview

PART I:

CHRISTMAS CHARACTERS

MARY AND JOSEPH: TRAVELING AT CHRISTMAS (LUKE 2:1–7)

For some reason we decided to take the dog with us. We had only owned her a little over two years. She was like a firstborn child in many ways. I’ve always been a sucker for dogs, especially beagles and spaniels. She was purchased on the fourth anniversary of my marriage and was given the name Anniversary Beagle. Her AKC papers actually stated the name as Anniversary F. Beagle, using the middle initial for gender identification. We shortened the name to Annie. I always called her my little arfin’ Annie!

A year prior to the Christmas of 1983, we had been blessed with our actual firstborn human child, whom we named James. He was a little over sixteen months old when we all set out in an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme from Port Neches, Texas, to the home of our parents in Springfield, Missouri. We drove a lot through the night so James could sleep. His mom, being three months pregnant with our second son, Daniel, stole a few naps as well.

While in Missouri, my wife had been begging for a white Christmas. You know, like the ones she used to know. Whoa, that could make a great song! She got her wish, as southwest Missouri had about eight inches drop from the sky. The only problem with this wish being granted was the drive home. Snow in southern Missouri usually means ice in Arkansas and northeast Texas.

Looking back on it, I should have risked the church being mad at me and not tried to drive home in order to get there for the next Sunday service. But I was far too fundamental and judgmental at that time not to conform to everyone else’s ideas about church attendance and the leadership of its staff. So a pregnant woman, a small child, a dog, and I climbed into the car and started on our way home.

The icy drive was tenuous at best. James and Annie slept fine, but my wife and I were white-knuckling anything we could hold on to. While I take great pride in being able to drive on ice around town, it’s a little scarier when you can see your death on the downhill slope of an Arkansas hill just outside the lane in which you are driving. I could feel the stress tensing me up. On the rare occurrences of a stretch of straight highway in northern Arkansas, I would try to relieve the stress by shaking my arms and turning my head slowly toward my shoulders and back in a circular motion.

Slowly we made our way through Arkansas and into Texas. We discovered the day after the drive that the entire portion of Highway 71 we drove had actually been closed. I felt as though a Christmas miracle had taken place. What would normally take eight hours of driving had taken just over thirteen. We were still three or four hours from home when we started looking for a hotel. I felt certain that if I were to keep pushing it, an accident was sure to occur.

As hard as it may seem for this generation to believe, there were no cell phones, smartphones, or tablets to help us find a dog-friendly hotel at that time. As I drove by hotel after hotel, I would pull in, go inside, and inquire as to whether we could spend the night there. Hotel after hotel told us they would not allow us to stay with a dog in the room. I would inquire as to whether any of their chains in the next city might be dog-friendly, and the normal response was that I would have to check with those particular hotels. Not only did they have no room, but they also were not willing to do anything extra to help us find lodging. The good part about making so many stops was the refreshing cold air that would hit me at each stop. From that I would get a little bit of strength to drive to the next hotel.

Finally, one hour away from home, we found a hotel in Jasper, Texas. James and his mother settled in while I took the dog on a walk so as to avoid any unnecessary cleaning fees in the room charges.

The next morning, with a good night’s sleep under our belts, we drove the final hour to get home. Some people pointed out how crazy I was to have stopped just one hour away. But I had weighed the probability of sleeping at the wheel versus the option of sleeping at a hotel sixty miles from home, and I had opted for the hotel. If some of the hotels had been open, available, or dog-friendly, my slumber would have taken place much farther up the road.

As bad as all of that was on me and my young family, there was another Christmas trip that was more difficult on a young family. Joseph and Mary were required to travel back to Bethlehem in order to be counted in a census ordered by the Roman government. Mary was further along in her pregnancy than my wife and therefore that had to make it far more difficult on her and Joseph in making the journey. Tradition has Mary riding a donkey, but biblically the mode of transportation is not mentioned. Whether donkey or walking, both of which were the main modes of transportation for poorer people at the time, it had to be more uncomfortable than an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme! For that matter, a camel or chariot ride, transportation for the rich, would still be more uncomfortable than my automobile.

Travel in that day was also very dangerous. Thieves and robbers usually stayed close to the main travel paths in order to steal from those passing by. I feel certain Joseph was careful while walking his pregnant wife around every corner or through a dark valley. He might not have seen his death on an icy hill, but he was concerned about a thief popping out from behind the hill. The stress probably worked at Joseph and tensed him up, as it would any of us.

As they neared Bethlehem, the search for lodging began. Hotel after hotel and inn after inn saw Joseph and Mary being rejected and turned away. Because of the census there simply were not enough rooms to take care of all the travelers. Some innkeepers might have shied away from an expectant mother that was this close to delivery as well. Finally Joseph found a place that, ironically, was dog-friendly. It was also cow-friendly and sheep-friendly and donkey-friendly. It was a stable.

Rather than a just palace, the King ended up being born in just a place. It was a place usually reserved for smelly four-legged creatures. There in a manger, where cows and horses ate and slobbered, lay the King, who would later feed people the word of God. There was wrapped in rags the King, who would later discuss the beauty of the flowers and how they are dressed, and point out that God loves us more than pretty flowers. There, amid piles of animal dung, the King was given to us by God to save us from our own piles of figurative dung.

Trips and travel often take us to exotic places. They take us to familiar places as well in visiting family or places we grew up. On this particular trip the family was taken to a place where prophecy could be fulfilled in the birth of the King in Bethlehem. Adventures and danger are always present when the trip is undertaken to discover God’s Son.

May you have the protection of the King as you travel in the Christmas season! Uh, you may want to book your hotels or inns early. I also wish and hope you experience the birth of the King in a new way this season.

INNKEEPER: MISSED MARKETING OPPORTUNITY (LUKE 2:7)

One summer I chose to drive from my home in northern Mississippi to visit my oldest son and his family in Phoenix, Arizona. It was one of my spontaneous trips. I enjoy spontaneity enough that I often plan it out.

If I saw something I wanted to do, I would alter the trip a little while and enjoy the diversion. On my return journey I noticed a particular hotel in a New Mexico city was quite active with their billboard advertising. Each billboard featured a different Hollywood star that had spent a night in their hotel. On the billboards were names like Bob Hope, John Wayne, and Bing Crosby. Each billboard also presented a picture of the named actor or politician.

This reminded me of numerous tourist stops in Missouri that advertised Jessie James Slept Here. I haven’t done thorough research on the topic, but I believe there may be more places Mr. James slept than there were evenings of his life. These places will sell any and all types of replicas that Jessie may have used, including gun belts, toy guns, and stick horses for the getaway.

When I discuss amusement parks as a form of recreation with my classes, I always mention Libertyland, which was in Memphis, Tennessee, for a number of years. I particularly liked their funnel cake ride. One of the roller coasters in the park had a sign posted declaring it one of Elvis Presley’s favorite rides in the park. He would reserve the park after hours so he and his friends could enjoy the festivities without the paparazzi of that day. I usually tell the class that if they had promoted a ride he vomited on, the park might still be open today. That’s usually when their eyes roll back in their heads.

It’s not well known, but I do have a structure that might have a bit of my legacy attached to it. I was dating a beautiful tall brunette, and we decided to go to the karaoke night being held in the local bowling alley. With her being tall and beautiful and me being shorter, we decided we would try the duet made famous by Sonny and Cher, I Got You Babe. I knew the chances of a talent scout showing up for Wednesday-evening karaoke in a small-town bowling alley were slim, but other musical stars had funnier stories for their beginnings. I figured someday there would be a sign outside the bowling alley reading, David Waddell Sang Here.

I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrases dance like no one is watching you and sing as if no one can hear you. I fulfill those statements when I sing and dance, because I can clear out a room in no time at all with a couple of moves or an off-pitch noise coming out of my mouth. My son’s choral director once told me I had good range in my voice. I have no idea what that means, but I’ve reminded my musically talented sons about it repeatedly, trying to make it sound as though I actually have a remote bit of singing talent.

The tape started playing, and as usual I was a bit off the beat. Cher covered her parts quite well, but when I would sing my solo part, the crowd would roll their eyes back in their heads. That response happens to me a lot. We somehow made it through the song without the karaoke director having a cardiac arrest. Judging by the look on his face, I can only imagine he must have been drinking something sour.

The next morning, the entire city awakened to the news that the bowling alley had burned down sometime in the night. My date and I were never questioned about the connection of my singing and the alleged arson. I felt relieved at the dismissal of possible criminal charges, but I was also disappointed at the loss of my sang here sign being posted.

Businesses use items like this as a way to draw in new customers. I was tempted to stop and book a room at the aforementioned hotel and possibly be in a room where Marilyn Monroe or Ronald Reagan once slept, but it was early evening, so I drove by the place and ate at a nearby Mexican restaurant instead. I have seen fancier hotels in my day, but none of the fancier ones boast such a lineup as this place does.

The thought of all this advertising about visiting a place where a famous person has visited got me thinking about the innkeeper in the Christmas story. This is a man that had a great chance but really blew his marketing opportunity. Can you imagine if he had opened up a room for the King of Kings? What if, instead of telling Mary and Joseph there were no rooms available, the innkeeper had pushed someone out of his or her room to provide shelter for the mother of Christ? If given the same situation, wouldn’t I reject others in order to serve Christ? If he had opened his inn and his heart, the inn would have become a tourist attraction for the ages. If Memphis can be birthplace of the musical genres of blues and rock ’n’ roll, then Bethlehem would have a marketing coup as being the Birthplace of Christ. The billboards would go up all over Israel. Come See the Birthplace of the Son of God. See where Jesus slept! Stand where Joseph stood!

Or what if he had the foresight to sell tickets to his stable? He could even offer a petting zoo for the children, with barnyard animals! I can see an infomercial being created to sell replica pieces of straw from the manger. A fortune could be made in selling fertilizer created by nativity scene animals, or by making it into paperweights. If it were made into dice, it would give a whole new meaning to the game craps! The wool from stable sheep could create an entire clothing line called All about Ewe. Time-shares could be easily arranged whereby you could book the stable for weeks or weekends. Can you imagine what kind of money he could have made off of a deal like that?

Instead he turned them away and treated the couple as if they were ordinary people and as if it were any other night. Instead of making room for the future King, he was more concerned with his paying customers that filled his inn. I can’t imagine an inn in Bethlehem was part of any tourism plans. Up to that point the city had the recognition of being the City of David, but I can’t imagine that created the business impact that a Roman census caused. Needless to say, the innkeeper missed a major marketing opportunity.

Before I get too judgmental with him, I must admit I do the same thing. While it’s not very stable thinking on my part, I am able to push Christ out of Christmas in a flash. I can quickly relegate Him to the barn of my heart. I find it so easy to get caught up in the materialistic part of the holiday and lose the enjoyment of celebration and giving. For example, let’s say someone buys me a gift when I haven’t purchased a gift for him or her. I start getting panicky and worried. This leads to a stressful experience, to the point that I can’t even enjoy a gift given by the donor without thought of a return. In such moments I have told the King of Kings that I have no room in my inn.

In the normality of day-to-day life, I have the opportunity to place a banner over my life that says, The Son of God Lives Here. Instead I turn Him away and place Him in a stable so no one can see He is here. I seem to buy into the business plan this innkeeper utilized.

The beauty of the night is that it played out just as God desired. He wanted a humble beginning for a King that would not be like any other king in history.

Want to buy a piece of straw from the manger?

GABRIEL: DON’T SHOOT THE MESSENGER (LUKE 1:26–38)

There have been times in my life when I have had to deliver bad news to others. Sometimes it has been the death of a program at church, and other times it has been the news of a death to a loved one.

In those moments of sharing news that could cause fight or flight, people quite often want to take out their frustrations or anger on the one delivering the message. The phrase don’t shoot the messenger was created for situations like this. There is a danger of this occurring any time someone lines up someone else to deliver a message.

A more joyous message can also be delivered. When it comes to good news being delivered, I always feel like saying Hug the messenger! I have received three particularly joyous messages in my life. With each one it seemed as though everything fell right into place at exactly the right time. To set up the message, you need to know my marriage occurred one semester prior to my college graduation. Following college I completed my seminary education in two full years. A few months following my graduation from the seminary, I was able to join a church staff for my first full-time career position in ministry leadership.

We decided we were ready for children.

It might be better stated as we were ready to have children. I’m not sure anyone is ever truly ready for children. We can read books, take seminars, and listen to other parents, but each child is going to carve out his or her own niche in this world. As parents we have to help our children sharpen their knives for carving and hope they use them properly.

The announcement came to me late in the year 1981. I remember it happening right before Christmas. I realized this would be my last Christmas without the joy of a child’s experience. I didn’t, however, think about the fact that I would never get a good night’s sleep on Christmas Eve with children in my life. I realized after the kids were around why Dad was always so grumpy early on Christmas morning.

It might be considered biased or silly, but there was something in me that wanted a son for my first child, so I prayed it might be. It could be something about the male ego or the tradition of carrying on the family name, but my desire was strong. I never had daughters, but I have three daughters-in-law and eight granddaughters. I love each one of them dearly, but I was equally as happy to see two grandsons become a part of the family. Again, my desire must have been caused by the tradition of carrying on the family name.

The following August, my little rascal was delaying his arrival. It took the assistance of induced labor in order for him to be introduced to this world. My prayers were answered, and he was a son. I always tease him by saying he was comfortable and cozy in the womb and saw no need to explore the world any further.

Two years later, a similar message came to us that we were expecting again. We hoped this one would be a girl, but God chose to give us another son. The message came to us prior to Christmas again, and the little boy arrived on my day off from work. I had plans to go play golf but ended up cancelling the game so I could be one of the first to meet him and greet him in this world. With the absence of golf that day, my second son had a good drive to become a chip off my block!

By the time the third one came around, the message arrived earlier, but the wonderful news was that the baby might arrive around Christmas. In preparing my own taxes, I was praying for the baby to be healthy, but also for it to arrive on or before December 31. It would be nice to have the tax deduction without the actual baby expenses. The third one not only waited into the new year but also chose to wait another twelve days after that to finally show his face. This was not the Twelve Days of Christmas I was looking for!

The message of children being conceived generally creates a celebration. It is definitely a time of joy. Innocent doctors get hugged and are given high fives. People in lobbies and waiting areas at the doctor’s offices celebrate with you when you burst out of the examination rooms and back out into the lobby.

A message that also created a good bit of excitement was delivered to a childless couple in the Bible. The declaration announcing John the Baptist being born to Zacharias and Elizabeth was announced by Gabriel. Although Zacharias’s response demonstrated a lack of faith to the message, this could have been interpreted as a shoot the messenger answer. Despite being a priest, Zacharias asked the same question Abraham did when he was given a similar message (Genesis 17:17–18). Zacharias asked Gabriel, How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.

Gabriel straightened him out quickly, and because of Zacharias’s lack of faith, Gabriel took away his ability to speak. Only after he wrote that the baby would be named John instead of taking on his father’s name was Zacharias able to speak. If he had been able to speak earlier, Zacharias might have been calling for a shooting of the messenger! Those that have raised children figure Zacharias may have wanted to shoot the messenger again during those wonderful teenage years.

Later Gabriel notified Mary about being chosen to give birth to God’s Son. If you think convincing Zacharias was tough because he was old, think about how you would convince a woman she was pregnant when she had never been involved with a man. Mary asked this question, and Gabriel shared with her how the Holy Spirit would overcome her and make the miracle happen. Furthermore, the child would be called the Son of God. Mary, rather than arguing like Zacharias, took on the task God had given her. She embraced the message and the messenger. Her step of faith in following God also set her up for a life of ridicule from others that chose not to believe the story of her conception. Following God’s path doesn’t always lead to understanding from others. Mary chose to take on the shame bestowed upon her by others to glorify the One, who sent the message and the messenger in the first place.

Two angels are named in the Scriptures. One is a warrior named Michael. The other is Gabriel, who is generally referred to as the messenger angel. His work with Zacharias and Mary was not his first message. Gabriel played a key role in communicating with the prophet Daniel long before this day. He assisted Daniel in a vision dealing with the end of the world, as well as giving him insight and understanding. He was helping Daniel to see how God would play things out in the world.

It is often around this time of celebration and wonder regarding the birth of Christ that many of us receive messages. They may be regarding the new birth of a baby to be delivered, but then again, they may be regarding the new birth of our spirit or a new birth of an idea. So the question I ask myself is, will I be willing to listen and accept the message I receive, or shall I shoot the messenger?

Which would you choose?

SHEPHERDS: SOUNDS IN THE NIGHT (LUKE 2:8–20)

There has to be some sort of unwritten law regarding kids and their parents on Christmas morning. My sons did the same thing to me that I did to my dad. My dad probably did it to his dad as well. I am referring to a form of communication done in the middle of the night. I call it the shouting whisper. It’s done at a whispered tone, but loud enough to wake the neighbors. It works best when the simple word Dad ends up with four to five syllables: Daa-aa-aa-aa-aad? You get the idea. You probably did it yourself at Christmastime or during scary events like thunderstorms and boogeyman sightings. My siblings and I utilized this at Christmas as an attempt to wake our dad up in order to get to the Christmas presents. If the shouting whisper was successful in waking our dad up enough to get out of bed, then it would become Christmas morning regardless of the actual time on the clock.

The whispering would start for me and my brothers around three o’clock in the morning. Not having clocks in our room, my brothers and I would wake thinking it was already Christmas morning. Of course we kids never realized that Dad was just then going to bed. A gruff voice would come out of the room ordering us back to bed. Finally we would wear the old man down and he’d get up and Christmas would officially start. Well, technically it didn’t start until he had his first cup of coffee in hand. A lot of life waited on Dad’s coffee.

My own sons fulfilled the role of being my dad’s revenge on me. The Daa-aa-aa-aad tradition carried on to the next generation. Mind you, this is not taught behavior and is passed genetically into the next generation. I got to the point where I would stop telling my father about things my sons had done, because he enjoyed it way too much. He always said they were doing the same things I did when I was growing up. I feel positive the old man was losing his memory, getting me confused with one of my brothers.

One particular Christmas Eve my boys had been put to bed. Following several visits and death threats the three had finally given up and gone to sleep. I finished up a few projects to prepare for Santa’s arrival and went to bed myself. I realized the window of sleep was a small one on this particular evening, so I tried to get into deep sleep as soon as possible.

It was around four in the morning that the whispering began. I ordered them back to bed only to hear the whisper again. Daa-aa-aa-aa-aad? Once again I ordered them back to their rooms. I had given up hope they would actually go back to sleep. I lay in bed and finally drifted off just a bit. Then I had that weird feeling someone was watching me. I opened my eyes only to be startled by three boys standing next to me, saying nothing. I asked what might be the problem.

Adam, the youngest at the age of eight, summed it up for the others: We heard a noise in the living room, and it’s a noise like we’ve never heard before.

The boys knew better than to go into the living room unsupervised on Christmas morning. Also, hearing noises like you’ve never heard before can be a little spooky to young ones. I got up and walked into the living room, not sure what I’d find. I was prepared in my heart to protect the family from whatever dangers lurked there making this noise like they’d never heard before. Then I heard the noise as well. It sounded like a great constant roar. I was able to confirm the noise when I stepped onto the sopping wet carpet. We had a frozen pipe burst inside the house. The roaring noise was water shooting out rather rapidly behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. We quickly turned off the water and located an all-night store that rented water extraction machines. Luckily the water had not spread to the Christmas presents, so part of the day was saved!

I got as much of the cleanup done as I could and had some time to think about what had happened. I imagined what the boys must have been going through in hearing an unfamiliar noise that scared them. I ignored their shouting whispers because I thought they were trying to cheat me out of some Christmas morning sleep. They wanted to wake me but were afraid to do so, especially after being corrected twice for doing so. What is it about noises, especially the ones like we’ve never heard before, that scares us so easily?

This story makes me think of another group of boys hanging out one Christmas Eve. They were sitting around watching sheep sleep when all of a sudden they heard a noise like they’d never heard before! While my noise was gushing water, their noise was a singing angel. Can you imagine watching over the sheep one night when an angel shows up and in a shouting whisper says, Duu-uu-uu-uu-uude!

The angel told them to not be afraid and to go see the baby that had been born in the manger down in Bethlehem. The angels explained to the shepherds that this baby would be the Savior of the world! Then a bunch of other angels joined in and gave a concert to the shepherds. That had to be a noise like they’d