Scripture:
“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” — John 3:16
Devotional:
Christmas morning glows with a stillness that feels almost holy. The house is quiet, the tree lights flicker against the window, and for one breathless moment the whole world seems to pause. The story we’ve waited for all Advent — the story of God wrapped in human skin — has arrived.
But Christmas isn’t only the memory of what Love did; it’s the miracle that Love still does.
Love lives.
It was the coldest night of 1930 in Chicago. The streets were empty, except for a twelve-year-old newspaper boy standing on the corner, barefoot in the snow. His coat was thin, torn at the sleeves; his breath came in shaky clouds. Through a restaurant window, he could see families laughing over steaming bowls of soup. He pressed his hands to the glass, just to feel the warmth.
A policeman passing by slowed his step. “Son, you shouldn’t be out here,” he said gently. “You’ll freeze to death. Why don’t you go home?”
The boy lowered his eyes. “Sir… I don’t have a home.”
The officer hesitated, then pointed down the street. “Do you see that big white house at the end? Go there. Knock on the door and say, John 3:16. They’ll let you in.”
The boy nodded, barely whispering a thank-you, and trudged through the snow. His fingers were stiff, his feet numb. When he reached the porch, he knocked. After a moment, the door creaked open and a woman — silver hair pulled back, eyes kind — looked out.
He managed to stammer, “John 3:16.”
Her expression softened. “Oh, come in, dear,” she said, her voice like music in the cold.
Warmth rushed at him as he stepped inside — firelight dancing across walls, the scent of bread and cinnamon filling the air. She led him to the hearth, wrapped him in a blanket, and handed him a steaming mug of cocoa. “You must be starving,” she said.
He ate until he couldn’t eat another bite. She drew him a bath with soap and bubbles, and left a pair of soft pajamas waiting on the chair. As he lowered himself into the water, the heat prickled his frozen skin. He whispered to himself, “John 3:16 — I don’t understand it, but it sure makes a dirty boy clean.”
Later, wrapped in flannel and tucked beneath a quilt, he felt tears slide down his cheeks. “John 3:16 — whatever it means, it makes a lonely boy feel loved.”
Morning came. The woman met him with breakfast and a smile. “Do you know what you said when you knocked on my door last night?”
“Yes, ma’am. John 3:16. But… I don’t know what it means.”
She opened her worn Bible and read, her voice trembling slightly:
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.”
The boy stared at the words. They seemed too big, too beautiful. “You mean,” he said slowly, “that God loves me like that? Enough to give His Son?”
She nodded. “Yes, child. Enough to open every locked door — even the one to heaven itself.”
And in that moment, the light broke through. The same love that opened her house had opened his heart. The same love that warmed his hands was now warming his soul. He understood that this — this — was Christmas.
God had come looking for him.
The baby born in Bethlehem wasn’t just cradled in straw; He was the key to every heart that has ever stood shivering in the dark.
The cradle led to the cross, the cross to the tomb, and the tomb to a love that cannot die.
Love didn’t stop at Bethlehem.
Love didn’t end at Calvary.
Love didn’t stay in the grave.
Love lives.
It lives in homes that open, in hearts that forgive, in hands that give.
It lives wherever light pierces the cold — wherever grace is spoken in Jesus’ name.
And this morning, it lives in you.
Application:
Whose life could be changed by the warmth of love through you today? What door could you open that might let someone see Jesus?
Prayer:
Jesus, thank You for coming after us — for finding us in the cold and bringing us home. Let Your love live through me today. May my life be a doorway where others meet You. Amen.
