John 1:6-13

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It was Christmas Eve in 1962 when I came to understand what I really wanted for Christmas. I was 11 years old and we were celebrating our first Christmas in the new home my parents had recently purchased. It was perched on top of a hill with an incredible view that overlooked the San Fernando Valley. Christmas Eve was a formal occasion at our home. We would all dress in our finest attire, the table would be beautifully set, and we would enjoy a festive meal with close friends. But for me this was all just prologue to the REAL DEAL––the presents. I could hardly contain myself, waiting for the adults to finish their dinner and conversations so we could get down to the business at hand. Every parent knows well a child’s impatient cry, “Are you done yet?”

But that year everything changed. Just as I was about to exhaust my parents’ patience the doorbell rang. I ran to open the door and discovered several wrapped gifts on the porch. Looking up, I saw a yellow pickup drive away—the 1956 yellow Ford pickup that belonged to Bob Munson. Earlier that month, my mother had hired him to do some carpentry work in our new home. With a flattop haircut and sidewall sideburns, this 6’ 3” man’s man was the complete package of a boy’s dream: a former football player, truck driver, cabinetmaker, fly fisherman and deer hunter all rolled into one. He had two daughters but no sons, and for two weeks I was his over eager carpenter’s “helper” for the work my mother hired him to do. For two weeks I stuck to his side like glue, fetching his lumber, writing down measurements, spilling his coffee and tripping over his tools. Each morning I would stare out our front window like a puppy dog, waiting for the yellow pickup to appear. The appearance of that truck was the signal that my world was about to be transformed, for when Bob Munson came into our home, my world got very, very large.

Staring into the stillness of that starry night, I couldn’t believe Bob, who had little money, would buy me gifts and then hand deliver them on Christmas Eve. When I opened them, I discovered these were no ordinary gifts. They were not toys or games to entertain a rich kid from the other side of town. These were “man” gifts––real tools that I would learn to use during the countless hours I spent working alongside Bob in his garage.

That Christmas Eve I learned that most valuable gift we can give another human being is “presence,” not presents. It was the gift of this relationship that gave me the freedom to ask God to invade my world years before I ever heard that “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” So, what is it like to have God’s presence dwell among us? John’s prologue to his gospel certainly gets us going in the right direction. Like an overture to a symphony, the prologue to John’s gospel is the story of the whole gospel in miniature, introducing the major themes that are about to unfold. It is written in a Hebraic style of poetic–prose with profoundly simple vocabulary, yet it is dense with layers of meaning, ambiguity and especially surprise. Last week Joel led us through the first five verses.

I. A Beginning Before Time (John 1:1–5)

1 In the beginning was the Word,

and the Word was with God,

and the Word was God.

2 He was in the beginning with God.

3 All things were made through him,

and without him was not any thing made that was made.

4 In him was life,

and the life was the light of men.

5 The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:1–5 ESV)

Knowing your history gives you roots and grounds you in your identity. My grandmother was extremely proud of her Welsh heritage and often told the story of how my great grandfather, David Morgan, emigrated from Wales in 1859. At age 15 he pulled his blind mother in a handcart clear across the country to South Fork Utah. She would always end the story by