(I wrote the following meditation for my church body’s magazine this year. I was assigned to write on Luke 1:1-4. I was a little concerned at first — a prologue seems an unpromising subject. However, in meditating on it, I came up with the following, which I think is not bad at all. I share it as my Christmas greeting to you and yours.)

Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught. (Luke 1:1-4, ESV)

There’s a tradition about how Luke came to write his gospel. I like it, and it seems to me to fit the Bible narrative. The tradition says that Luke did a lot of research while staying in Caesarea, during the two years the apostle Paul was under house arrest there, awaiting trial.

That must have been a frustrating period for the missionaries. They found work to do while they waited, but they must have thought again and again, “This wasn’t what I was called to do!”

But Luke (according to this tradition) made the most of it. One thing he seems to have done then was to write the book of Acts, which can be seen as a kind of “legal deposition” for Paul’s trial in Rome (the account starts in Acts 23).

But there were also many people available in that area who’d been eyewitnesses to the life and work of our Lord Jesus. Chief among them was Mary, the Lord’s mother. That would explain the details of the Savior’s birth, seen from Mary’s point of view, that we find only in Luke’s gospel. How eager she must have been to share her stories, and how eagerly Luke must have written them down!

It’s been called – with good reason – the greatest story ever told. But Luke, a physician, a man of science in his time, knew the principle that “if it sounds too good to be true, it’s probably not.”

So he adds this preface to his book. Essentially, he’s saying, “Look, Theophilus (the name means ‘Beloved of God’). You’re about to read about some amazing things. Wonderful things. Things so astounding you’ll find them hard to believe.

“But I fact-checked it. This isn’t some myth about the gods on Olympus. It’s not an ancient tale about a legendary golden age. This is an account of things that happened in our lifetimes, and there are multiple witnesses still around to testify to them. I talked to those people.

“The world isn’t what you think it is. Life isn’t what you think it is. Something amazing is happening all around us, and you can be part of it. I’m going to tell you about these astounding things. Angels. Miracles. Sicknesses healed. The dead raised. Hope for everyone who’s abused or oppressed or suffering.

“I’m going to start with the stories of a couple of babies…”

I’m sure there are wonderful customs among the many cultures who celebrate Christmas in warm southern climates (Christ wasn’t exactly born in Norway, after all). But I’ve always been grateful personally to know Christmas as a time of light in darkness, a celebration carried on bravely just at that time of year when the darkness seems most powerful. Christmas is, and always should be, a kind of surprise.

G. K. Chesterton wrote it this way in his poem, “The House of Christmas:”

This world is wild as an old wives’ tale,

And strange the plain things are,

The earth is enough and the air is enough

For our wonder and our war;

But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings

And our peace is put in impossible things

Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings

Round an incredible star.

“Gospel,” as I’m sure you know, means “good news.” Like so many things about our faith, we need to look at it a second time. This isn’t just any good news – it’s the best news. The best news possible. We are not alone. We are not forgotten. We are loved in a greater and stranger way than we ever imagined. Death has been conquered. The future will be incredible. Everything you’ve suffered will be worth it. Whatever you’ve dreamed of, whatever you’ve fantasized about – it will be better than that.

Luke 1:1-4 is like a gift tag on a Christmas present. On the tag is written, “You’re about to open a gift so wonderful you’ll have a hard time believing it’s for you. Trust me, it is. Open it now. Merry Christmas, Beloved of God.”