The Legend of the Candy Cane: A Sweet Reminder of Jesus

Hello, and welcome back to Nations 4 Jesus. As we continue through the Christmas season, I want to share a beautiful story with you—the legend of the candy cane. Now, this story is most likely not historically accurate but more a meaningful tradition. But it's a wonderful way to teach children—and remind ourselves—about the true meaning of Christmas and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Every time you see a candy cane this season, hanging on a Christmas tree or given as a gift, I want you to remember this story and the powerful truths it represents.

According to the legend, the candy cane was first created back in the 18th century in certain areas of Europe. At that time, there was said to be a ban on public displays of Christianity in some regions. Christians were oppressed—no Bibles or crosses could be owned openly. One man, a candy maker, found this oppression deeply distressing. He wished he could share the love of Jesus and the joy of Christmas with the rest of the world, especially with children.

When Christmas came around, children didn't get to see nativity scenes or enjoy learning about the true story of Christmas. As a candy maker, this man prayed to find a way that he could offer local children a Christmas gift that would allow him to secretly communicate the real story of Christmas. His prayer led to an idea—the candy cane. And every element of this simple candy was designed to tell the Gospel story.

First, he chose to make the candy in the shape of a shepherd's staff. After all, Jesus is the shepherd to His followers. The Bible tells us in Isaiah 40:11: "He leads His flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young."

Psalm 23 begins with those famous words: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." Jesus Himself said in John 10:11, "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep." And in John 10:27, Jesus says, "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me."

So when children held this candy shaped like a shepherd's staff, they were reminded that Jesus is their Good Shepherd who leads them, protects them, and cares for them.

But the candy maker's genius didn't stop there. He realized that when you turn the shepherd's staff upside down, it forms the letter "J"—which stands for Jesus! Matthew 1:21 tells us: "She will give birth to a son and you are to give Him the name Jesus because He will save His people from their sins."

The angel told Mary in Luke 1:31, "You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus." That name—Jesus—means "Yahweh saves" or "The Lord is salvation." It's the most important name in all of history. And there it was, hidden in the shape of a simple candy cane!

The candy maker chose to make the candy hard, not soft. This was done to remind children that Jesus is our "rock"—dependable, solid, and strong. Psalm 31:3 says, "Since You are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of Your name lead and guide me."

When storms come in life, when we face difficulties and challenges, Jesus is our rock—unchanging, unshakable, reliable. We can build our lives on Him, and we will not be moved. The hard candy reminded children that Jesus is strong enough to hold them through anything.

Now we come to the colors, and this is where the Gospel becomes so clear. Wide red stripes were added to the candy cane, representative of the crucifixion and the blood Jesus shed for our sins. Isaiah 53:5 prophesied about Jesus: "But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed."

Those red stripes represent the lashes Jesus received—39 stripes across His back before He was crucified. They represent the crown of thorns pressed into His head. They represent the nails driven through His hands and feet. They represent the blood that flowed from His body as He hung on the cross.

And why did Jesus shed His blood? Revelation 1:5 tells us: "To Him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by His blood." Jesus said in Luke 22:20, holding up the cup at the Last Supper, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you." John 3:16 reminds us that "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."

Through His blood, we are given salvation and eternal life. The red stripes on the candy cane tell us that Christmas isn't just about a baby in a manger—it's about that baby who grew up to die on a cross for our sins.

But the candy cane doesn't just have red stripes—it also has white stripes. These white stripes represent the holiness and purity of Jesus, who was sinless. Unlike every other human who has ever lived, Jesus never sinned. He was perfectly pure, perfectly holy, perfectly obedient to God the Father.

But the white also represents something else—the purity that Jesus gives to us when we ask Him to be our Lord and Savior. 1 John 1:7 promises: "But if we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, His Son, purifies us from all sin."

When we come to Jesus in faith, confessing our sins and trusting in His sacrifice, He washes us clean. He makes us white as snow. Isaiah 1:18 says, "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool." The white stripes remind us that Jesus doesn't just forgive our sins—He purifies us, cleanses us, and makes us new.

Even the flavor of the candy cane has meaning! The candy maker chose peppermint, which was very similar to hyssop. Now, hyssop was used for sacrifice and purification in the Old Testament. When the Israelites painted lamb's blood on their doorposts during the first Passover, they used hyssop branches. When priests performed purification ceremonies, they used hyssop.

Psalm 51:7 says, "Cleanse me with hyssop and I shall be clean, wash me and I will be whiter than snow." So the peppermint flavor reminds us of the sacrifice that Jesus made for us—He became our Passover Lamb, our ultimate sacrifice, our purification from sin. Every time we taste that peppermint, we can remember the sweet fragrance of Christ's sacrifice.

And finally, the candy cane was made to be given as a gift. It wasn't meant to be kept for yourself—it was meant to be shared with others. This represents the love of Jesus when He gave us the gift of salvation. Romans 6:23 tells us, "For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Salvation isn't something we earn or deserve—it's a gift! And just as we share candy canes with others, we're called to share the good news of Jesus with everyone we meet. The candy maker couldn't openly preach the Gospel under persecution, so he found a creative way to share it through candy. We have the freedom to speak openly about Jesus—so let's use that freedom!

This Christmas season, I encourage you to use candy canes as a teaching tool with your children or grandchildren. Give them a candy cane and tell them this story.

I also love this story because it reminds me of how creative persecuted Christians have been throughout history. When they couldn't openly share their faith, they found creative ways to encode the Gospel message—in songs, in symbols, in everyday objects like candy.

In our episodes about the Korean church under Japanese occupation, we talked about how Christians met secretly in the mountains. In our episodes about North Korea today, we've heard how believers memorize Scripture because they can't own Bibles. Throughout church history, persecuted Christians have been incredibly creative in passing on the faith.

The candy maker in this legend—whether the story is literally true or not—represents that same creative faithfulness. He couldn't preach openly, so he preached through peppermint candy shaped like a shepherd's staff. He found a way to tell the Gospel story that wouldn't get him arrested but would plant seeds of truth in children's hearts.

We who have religious freedom should be convicted by this. If persecuted Christians are that creative and bold in sharing Jesus under threat of death, how much more should we—who face no such threats—be sharing the Gospel openly and frequently? We don't need to encode the message in candy. We can speak it plainly. Yet often we're silent.

This Christmas, let's not be silent about Jesus. Let's tell His story clearly. Let's share the Gospel—that Jesus, God's Son, came as a baby in Bethlehem, lived a sinless life, died on the cross for our sins, rose from the dead, and offers salvation as a free gift to all who believe. That's the message the candy cane represents. Let's share it boldly!

Thank you for joining me today. I pray this story of the candy cane enriches your Christmas celebrations and gives you a tool to share the Gospel with children and adults alike.

Until next time, remember—keep your eyes on the nations and share the sweet story of Jesus!

You can listen to this as a podcast at Spotify podcast

Christmas in the Jungle: Jim Elliot, Nate Saint, and the Last Gift

Hello, and welcome back to Nations 4 Jesus. Today’s Christmas-themed podcast is a story that still moves me every time I think about it. It's about five young missionaries who spent their last Christmas on earth preparing gifts for people who had never heard the name of Jesus—people who would kill them just weeks later.

This is the story of five missionaries and their final Christmas in the jungles of Ecuador in 1955.

By the mid-1950s, five young missionary families were serving in Ecuador: Jim and Elisabeth Elliot, Nate and Marj Saint, Pete and Olive Fleming, Ed and Marilou McCully, and Roger and Barbara Youderian. They were all burdened for one group in particular—the Waodani people, then called the "Aucas," which means "savages" in the Quechua language.

The Waodani were known as the most violent tribe in the Amazon. They lived in complete isolation and killed any outsiders who entered their territory. They also killed each other—some estimates suggest that 60% of Waodani deaths were from internal spearings and revenge killings. Oil company workers, rubber traders, other indigenous groups—anyone who came near them died.

But these five missionaries saw the Waodani differently. They didn't see savages. They saw people made in God's image who had never once heard that Jesus loved them. They saw an unreached people group that deserved a chance to hear the Gospel. And they began planning a way to reach them.

They called it "Operation Auca."

Nate Saint was the pilot of the group—a skilled aviator with Missionary Aviation Fellowship. He had developed a technique for lowering a bucket from his plane on a long line, allowing him to deliver gifts to people on the ground while circling overhead.

In September 1955, the missionaries began making regular flights over Waodani territory, dropping gifts—machetes, ribbon, clothing, buttons, photographs of themselves smiling. They wanted to show the Waodani that they were friends, not enemies. They wanted to soften the fear and hostility before attempting face-to-face contact.

Week after week, they flew over and dropped gifts. And something remarkable began to happen. The Waodani started leaving gifts in return—a feathered headdress, food, a live parrot. Communication was being established. Trust was slowly building.

Then came Christmas 1955. This would be the last Christmas these five men would ever celebrate on earth—though they didn't know it at the time.

During that Christmas season, the missionaries intensified their efforts. They prepared special gifts for the Waodani. They continued the food drops and friendly gestures. They spent time with their families, celebrated the birth of Jesus, and prayed for the people they were trying to reach.

Jim Elliot wrote in his journal during this time about the tension between the joy of Christmas with his wife Elisabeth and baby daughter Valerie, and the burden he carried for the Waodani who had never heard of Christ's birth. Here was a man celebrating the Savior's coming while preparing to risk his life to tell others about that Savior.

The missionaries knew the danger. The Waodani had killed before and would likely try to kill again. But they also believed that the Waodani needed Jesus—and someone had to go.

Nate Saint wrote during this time: "As we weigh the future and seek the will of God, does it seem right that we should hazard our lives for just a few savages? As we ask ourselves this question, we realize that it is not the call of the needy thousands. Rather, it is the simple intimation of the prophetic word that there shall be some from every tribe."

They were thinking about Revelation 5:9—that people from every tribe and tongue and nation would worship around God's throne. The Waodani needed to be there. And these five men were willing to die to make it possible.

Just after Christmas, the missionaries decided the time had come for face-to-face contact. On January 3, 1956, Nate flew the five men to a sandbar on the Curaray River, which they nicknamed "Palm Beach." It was in the heart of Waodani territory.

For the next few days, they waited excitedly. On Friday, January 6, three Waodani—a man and two women—emerged from the jungle. The contact was peaceful, even friendly. The missionaries were thrilled. They gave the visitors gifts, shared food, and even gave the man a ride in the airplane. It seemed that the months of gift-dropping and the Christmas preparations had worked. Trust was being built.

On Sunday, January 8, Nate radioed to his wife Marj: "Looks like they'll be here for the early afternoon service. Pray for us. This is the day! Will contact you next at four-thirty."

The four-thirty contact never came.

That afternoon, a larger group of Waodani warriors attacked. All five missionaries were speared to death on the banks of the Curaray River. Jim Elliot was 28. Nate Saint was 32. Ed McCully was 28. Pete Fleming was 27. Roger Youderian was 31. They left behind five widows and nine children.

The news shocked the world. Life magazine ran a ten-page story with photos. Many people questioned the wisdom of the mission. Why would these young fathers risk their lives for a handful of "savages" in the jungle?

But the missionaries themselves had already answered that question. Jim Elliot had written in his journal years earlier: "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

They gave their lives—which they couldn't keep anyway—to gain eternal impact for people who had never heard of Jesus.

But here's what makes this story even more remarkable. The story didn't end on Palm Beach. It was just the beginning.

Elisabeth Elliot—Jim's widow—and Rachel Saint—Nate's sister—did something almost unbelievable. They went to live among the Waodani. They went to the very people who had killed their husband and brother.

They learned the language. They built relationships. They shared the Gospel. And over time, the Waodani began to come to faith in Christ.

The same warriors who had thrown the spears became followers of Jesus. They were baptized. Churches were planted. The cycle of violence that had been destroying the tribe began to break. The transformation was profound and documented—National Geographic, major news outlets, and eventually a feature film called "End of the Spear" told the story.

Today, the majority of the Waodani people are Christians. They have their own pastors, their own churches, the New Testament in their own language. Waodani believers have shared the Gospel with other tribes in the region. Several of the men who killed the missionaries became church leaders and shared their testimonies around the world before they passed away.

Steve Saint, Nate Saint's son, grew up among the Waodani and was even baptized by Mincaye—one of the men who killed his father. He has spent much of his life serving them and telling the story of reconciliation and redemption that God brought out of that tragedy.

So why is this a Christmas story? Because Christmas is ultimately about this: God giving His most precious gift—His own Son—to people who were His enemies, so that they might be saved.

Think about what these missionaries did in Christmas 1955. They prepared gifts for people who would kill them. They showed love to people who hated outsiders. They laid down their lives for people who had never asked to be saved.

That's the Christmas message! "While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). "God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still enemies, we were reconciled to Him through the death of His Son" (Romans 5:10).

The Waodani didn't deserve those gifts. They didn't deserve the love of those missionaries. They didn't deserve the Gospel. But that's grace—giving people what they don't deserve because God first gave us what we didn't deserve.

And just as God's gift of His Son brought salvation to enemies, the missionaries' sacrifice eventually brought salvation to the Waodani. What seemed like defeat became victory. What seemed like death became life. That's the power of sacrificial love offered in Jesus's name.

Let me give you an update on the Waodani today. As of 2025, the tribe numbers around 4,000-5,000 people living primarily in Ecuador's Amazon region. The majority identify as Christians, and there are multiple Waodani churches with indigenous pastors.

However, the community faces significant challenges. Encroachment from oil companies and illegal loggers threatens their ancestral lands. Some younger Waodani have drifted from faith as Western materialism and cultural pressures have increased. The tribe is navigating the tension between preserving their culture and engaging with the modern world.

Organizations continue to work with the Waodani on Bible translation, discipleship, community development, and advocacy for their land rights. Steve Saint's organization, I-TEC (Indigenous People's Technology and Education Center), has developed tools and training to help the Waodani and other indigenous groups become self-sufficient.

The story continues. The seeds planted in blood almost 70 years ago on January 8, 1956, continue to bear fruit—and the Waodani still need prayer as they navigate the challenges of the 21st century.

What can we learn from this Christmas story? First, reaching the unreached is worth any cost. Five young men gave their lives, and as a result, an entire tribe came to know Jesus. The Waodani will be around God's throne in Revelation 5 because someone was willing to pay the price.

Second, sacrificial love opens doors that nothing else can. The gift drops, the Christmas preparations, the friendly gestures—these softened hearts and prepared the way for the Gospel. When the widows returned in love rather than vengeance, the Waodani were undone. That kind of love can only come from Jesus.

Third, death is not the end of the story. The missionaries' deaths seemed like a terrible waste. But God used those deaths to bring an entire people group to Himself and to inspire thousands of others to go to the mission field. "Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds" (John 12:24).

Merry Christmas, friends. May this season remind you that the greatest gift is always sacrificial love—and that some gifts are worth dying to give.

Until next time, remember—keep your eyes on the nations, and remember: He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.

You can listen to this in podcast form at Spotify podcast

The Real Saint Nicholas: From Defender of the Faith to Santa Claus

Hello, friends, and welcome back to Nations 4 Jesus. As we approach Christmas, I want to tell you a story that might surprise you. It's about a man whose name you know, whose legend fills our shopping malls and Christmas cards, but whose true story has been almost completely forgotten.

This is the story of Saint Nicholas of Myra—a radical defender of Christian Biblical truth, a fearless protector of the innocent, and a man whose generosity was so legendary that his name became synonymous with gift-giving for over 1,700 years.

But here's what most people don't know: before he became remembered only as the jolly figure in a red suit, Nicholas was a bishop who may have physically confronted a heretic at the Council of Nicaea for denying the divinity of Christ.

Let me take you back to the third century.

Saint Nicholas was a real, historically attested Christian bishop. This is not a legend invented by medieval monks. This is not a baptized pagan god. This was a real man who lived, breathed, and served Christ with extraordinary courage.

He was born around AD 270 in Patara, which is in Lycia—modern-day Turkey. He died around AD 343. He served as Bishop of Myra during one of the most dangerous periods in Christian history—the Diocletian persecutions.

Think about what that means. Nicholas lived when being a Christian could get you tortured, imprisoned, or killed. Being a bishop meant you had a target on your back. The Roman Empire was systematically trying to eradicate Christianity.

But Nicholas didn't hide. He didn't compromise. He stood firm.

He became known for four things: radical generosity, defense of the poor, protection of children, and fierce defense of Christian truth.

And here's what's remarkable—he was revered within a generation of his death. This isn't a saint manufactured centuries later for political reasons. This is a man whose impact was so immediate and so powerful that the early church couldn't stop talking about him.

Now, let me address the question many people ask: Was Saint Nicholas at the Council of Nicaea in AD 325?

Short answer: Very likely yes, though some of the details are debated.

The Council of Nicaea (AD 325) is one of the most important events in the history of Biblical Christianity because it settled the foundational question of who Jesus is. Faced with the Arian controversy—which claimed Jesus was a created being and not fully divine—the council affirmed what Scripture teaches: that the Son is eternally God, “of the same substance” with the Father. This preserved the core truth of the gospel, safeguarded the doctrine of the Trinity, and unified the early Church around a clear confession of Christ’s true nature. Without Nicaea, Christianity would lack one of its essential anchors for understanding Jesus, salvation, and the identity of the Church itself.

Back to Nicholas…he was a bishop in Asia Minor, the very region that was heavily represented at the Council of Nicaea. Early church tradition consistently associates him with Nicaea. He's listed in some later episcopal attendance records, though not all early lists have survived.

But there's a famous incident that tradition tells us about—and this is where it gets really interesting.

The story goes that Nicholas became so outraged by Arius's denial of Christ's divinity that he struck Arius during the council.

Let me give you some context. Arius was teaching that Jesus was a created being—not fully God, not co-eternal with the Father. This was a direct assault on the doctrine of the Trinity. This was heresy that threatened the very foundation of Christianity.

The Council of Nicaea was called specifically to address this crisis. Bishops from across the Roman Empire gathered to defend the truth that Jesus Christ is fully God, of the same substance as the Father.

And according to tradition, Nicholas—this gentle, generous bishop known for his love and charity—heard Arius speak, heard him blaspheme the Son of God, and could not contain himself.

He walked across the room and struck him.

Now, let me be clear about what happened next. Nicholas was temporarily censured for this action. The other bishops said, "You can't just hit people during a church council, even if they're heretics." His bishop's vestments were taken from him. He was temporarily removed from his position.

The bishops later reinstated him.

Now, whether or not Nicholas literally struck Arius, he was remembered as a fierce defender of the Trinity. That's why he became associated with Nicaea at all. You don't get that reputation by accident.

But Nicholas wasn't just known for his theological defense. He was known for his godly actions, particularly his radical generosity to the poor.

Let me tell you the most famous story, and this one is attested very early in church history.

There was a poor man in Myra who had three daughters. In that culture, daughters needed dowries to marry. Without a dowry, they couldn't find husbands. And without husbands, they faced either poverty or being sold into slavery or prostitution.

This father was desperate. He had no money. His daughters had no future.

Nicholas heard about this situation, and he did something remarkable. He secretly threw bags of gold through the window of their house at night.

One bag for each daughter. Enough to provide their dowries. Enough to save them from a terrible fate.

He did this anonymously. He didn't want recognition. He didn't want thanks. He just wanted to help.

This story is directly attested in early sources, and friends, this is the true root of Santa's chimney gifts. This is where the tradition of anonymous gift-giving comes from—from a Christian bishop who took Matthew 6:3 seriously.

Jesus said, "When you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret."

Nicholas lived that out literally.

But that wasn't the only story. Other early traditions describe Nicholas saving unjustly condemned men from execution, intervening against corrupt officials, protecting sailors during storms, and defending children from abuse or exploitation.

Nicholas was known as a bishop who acted, not merely taught. He didn't just preach about charity—he practiced it. He didn't just talk about justice—he pursued it.

Now, let me trace for you how Saint Nicholas became Santa Claus, because this happened in layers, not all at once.

Phase 1: Saint Nicholas, 4th to 10th centuries.

His feast day was December 6th. He was celebrated across the Christian world—East and West, Catholic and Orthodox. Children received small gifts in his name, but the emphasis was on charity, secrecy, and holiness.

Nicholas was honored as a saint who embodied Christian virtue.

Phase 2: Sinterklaas in the Netherlands, 11th to 16th centuries.

Dutch Christians preserved Nicholas devotion even during the Reformation. The name became Sinterklaas. He was depicted wearing bishop's robes—still recognizably a church figure. He arrived by boat, judged children's behavior, and gave gifts quietly.

This is the direct linguistic ancestor of "Santa Claus." Say "Sinterklaas" fast enough and you'll hear it.

Phase 3: America, 17th to 19th centuries.

Dutch settlers brought Sinterklaas to New Amsterdam, which became New York. English speakers transformed the name into Santa Claus.

Then in 1823, the poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas"—you know it as "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"—reshaped him completely. Now he had a flying sleigh, reindeer, and visited through chimneys.

He was still benevolent, still generous, but now more folkloric than Christian. The church connection was fading.

Phase 4: Commercial Santa, 20th century.

Illustrators like Thomas Nast gave him a specific look. Advertisers—notably Coca-Cola—standardized his red suit and jovial appearance.

Santa became detached from Christianity. He became a secular symbol of generosity and childhood wonder.

This is where the spiritual core was stripped away—not earlier.

So let me be clear about what did NOT happen, because there's a lot of misinformation out there.

Saint Nicholas did not originate as a pagan god. Santa Claus is not a corruption of Christ or Satan. Nicholas was not invented by Rome or medieval myth-makers. His generosity was not fictional.

Santa Claus is a secularized descendant of a Christian saint, not a replacement deity.

Now, here's what I find most beautiful about Nicholas's story.

The theological heart of Saint Nicholas was Matthew 6 Christianity. "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing."

He believed that wealth exists to serve the poor. That children are sacred. That Christ is fully God. That Christianity and charity must coexist.

You cannot separate Nicholas's theology from his generosity. His fierce defense of Christ's divinity at Nicaea and his secret gifts to poor families were two sides of the same coin.

He believed Jesus was God—and therefore he lived like Jesus, serving the least of these.

That is why Nicholas endured long after emperors, councils, and regimes faded. Not because he was a good mythological character, but because he was a genuine Christian whose life reflected Christ. In fact, as believers, we will get to meet him in Heaven one day!

So what does this mean for us today?

Friends, I think we need to reclaim the real Nicholas. Not to ruin Christmas or spoil childhood wonder, but to recover something precious that's been lost.

When we reduce Nicholas to a jolly elf who rewards good behavior with toys, we've lost a defender of truth, a protector of the vulnerable, a man who risked everything for Christ.

Our children need to know that generosity isn't just about feeling good—it's about radical sacrifice for those who can't repay you.

They need to know that defending truth matters, even when it costs you.

They need to know that real love looks like a bishop throwing bags of gold through windows to save girls from slavery.

Let me ask you some questions. How are you embodying Nicholas's secret generosity this Christmas? Are you giving in ways that don't bring you recognition? Are you helping people who can't possibly repay you?

And how are you defending the truth about who Jesus is? Are you willing to stand firm on the divinity of Christ, even when it's unpopular?

Nicholas would have never compromised on either of these things—radical generosity and radical Christianity went hand in hand for him.

So this Christmas, as your children talk about Santa, tell them about Nicholas. Tell them about the real man who loved Jesus so much he couldn't stay silent when people attacked His divinity. Tell them about the bishop who gave everything away because he believed Jesus was worth it.

Let me pray

Thank you for joining me today. The story of Saint Nicholas reminds me that our faith is rooted in real people who lived real lives of extraordinary courage and generosity.

Until next time, keep your eyes on the nations, give generously and secretly, and remember—the best gifts come from those who know the greatest Gift of all.

Merry Christmas, friends.

You can listen to this as a podcast at Spotify podcast