Jesse and His Bible

Although most of the recollections of that Advent Season night 31 years ago are pretty fuzzy (or erased entirely), bits and pieces are as distinct and vivid as if it happened only yesterday. There's the laughter and chatter of hundreds of middle-class high school students and young orphans mingling together in a sea of discarded holiday wrappings and exposed gifts of shiny toy trucks, mini-skirted Barbie dolls, miniature Apollo space models, and other "must have" presents of Christmas 1969.

There's a tiny raven-haired Mexican boy with large chocolate-colored eyes reflecting a mix of disappointment and resignation when he whispers to his adult chaperone, "I wish I would have gotten a Bible instead of a rocket," and the man replies, "I know, Jesse. I'm sorry." There's classmate Mike Huth and I racing to the pay phone outside the entrance to Winston Churchill High, and frantically digging into the pockets of our bell-bottom jeans as we try to combine our coins to make the call to find a Bible for Jesse.

There's the anxiety as we shiver in the cold, waiting for my mom to bring the Bible, and see the buses pull up and the orphans, with their chaperones, climb in to leave. There's the yelp of relief when the blue Plymouth arrives, my mom hands me my favorite childhood Bible through the window, and I make the mad dash for Jesse's bus. There's the moment I spot the chaperone and give him Jesse's Bible. There's that priceless exchange when the man finds the boy, presents the gift, smiles, and tells the beaming child, "You got your Bible, Jesse." There's my final glimpse of Jesse tightly hugging, against his chest, the small Bible-the brand-version with the four-color cover that shows Jesus seated on a rock, his arms lovingly opened to accept a little lamb and crowd of children gathering around him-as I turn and step off the bus.

I've often thought about that December night of '69 when the freshman class sponsored its annual Christmas party for an orphanage in San Antonio, Texas, and what it meant. At the time, as a 14-year-old, I remember two impressions: how inspirational it was that an orphan with nothing would want and prize a Bible above all the "must have" toys of the holiday shopping season, and how I was moved to make sure Jesse got his Bible (you know, wondering if the Lord put me at the right place, at the right time, in that school gymnasium to hear Jesse's wish-and picked me knowing how tenacious I can be).

So, for years, I viewed it from that approach, from the angle of how I was moved to impact Jesse. Then when I sat down to write this for Advent 2000, it finally (after 31 years!) dawned on me that maybe it wasn't so much the impact I had on Jesse, but the impact Jesse had on me. Maybe the Lord placed Jesse in the right place, at the right time. Maybe He wanted a tiny orphan and his wish for a Bible to teach me then and continue to teach me now about the true meaning of Christmas: The Lord sent a child to lead us-and teach us about His love for us.

--Karen M.