It was Christmastime 1978, and I was in the eighth grade. My father asked me directly, “What on your list do you really want for Christmas this year?” I couldn’t help but smile. I was the kid whose Christmas list, written out the day after Thanksgiving, was a mile long. Even though I often heard the phrase, “We can’t afford it,” I still managed to craft a pretty ambitious wish list. I told Dad a couple of the usual things. “No, what do you really want?” he pressed. I knew he was asking if there was anything I wanted that wasn't on the paper. And there was one thing, but it was far too big. I knew we couldn’t afford it. It was too much for one present—too much even for a combined Christmas-Easter-Birthday-Graduation gift. It was a stereo . My friends all had stereos in their rooms, complete with a radio, turntable, and tape player. Our family had a unit in the den, but I desperately wanted my own. “I’d really like a stereo,” I finally admitted. My dad simply referred me back to my original, written list. Fast forward to Christmas morning. I ripped into a massive box and found it: a brand-new stereo, complete with a radio, turntable, and tape player. The gift I had been certain was impossible. Overwhelmed, I raced down the hall into my room, tears streaming down my face, and closed the door. My mom banged softly on the door. “Robbie, are you all right, honey?” I let her in and tried to explain my breakdown. I was in shock. The gift was too big, too expensive. I felt I didn't deserve it, and the thought of what my parents might have sacrificed to get it for me was unbearable. I loved it, yet I wanted to return it. She gently reassured me. She told me it was okay, that they could afford it, and that they had gotten it because they loved me and wanted me to be happy. I was completely overwhelmed—not just by the magnificent gift, but by the profound love behind it. It was my most memorable Christmas. The Unthinkable Gift That gift was wonderful, but it points to a much greater one. This Christmas, I invite you to pause and wonder at the gift that Jesus is to us. To wonder means to feel a surprise mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, or inexplicable. The events surrounding Christ—from the moment the angel appeared to Mary, to his birth, to his life and sacrifice 33 years later—are all wonderfully true and inexplicable. Wonder at the reason He came: God’s immense love and perfect gift for you. Wonder at the gift of your faith and the result of that belief: you shall not perish but have everlasting life. Wonder at the scope of what we receive from this gift, as declared in the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” Reflect on each verse…. He lives to bless me with his love. He lives to plead for me above. He lives my hungry soul to feed. He lives to bless in time of need. He lives to grant me rich supply. He lives to guide me with his eye. He lives to comfort me when faint. He lives to hear my soul’s complaint. He lives to silence all my fears. He lives to wipe away my tears. He lives to calm my troubled heart. He lives all blessings to impart. He lives, my kind, wise heav’nly Friend. He lives and loves me to the end. He lives, and while he lives, I’ll sing. He lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King. He lives and grants me daily breath. He lives, and I shall conquer death. He lives my mansion to prepare. He lives to bring me safely there. He lives! All glory to his name! He lives, my Savior, still the same. Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives: “I know that my Redeemer lives!”