I stumbled across this little piece on my hard-drive today looking for something else. It interested me. Maybe it will interest you, too. About a year ago I preached in the church where my little brother is the pastor. Here is how I introduced the message:

This fall we enjoyed a Lord’s Day afternoon together taking pictures at a covered bridge near Lowell, Michigan. The young lady in front of Kyle is his sweet, new wife, Elizabeth. We all love her so much.

I have a pastor friend who is hurting. After years of pastoring the same church he was betrayed by a near associate and the church he spent his entire ministry building split leaving him devastated. Within a few months he had a major physical set-back. I spoke with him on Christmas Eve. He is a wounded man.

I have a tradition. I write a Christmas story for my family every year. I read it on Christmas Eve or on Christmas night. Tonight (Christmas 2005) after everything else was over we all sat down and I read the story for this year.
After the story we had pumpkin pie. It was a beautiful day. I have included the story here, Brad’s Christmas Prayer. I hope you like it. The next post is last year’s story, Highland Park
Brad’s Christmas Prayer
Brad …

Ted loved his new company car with leather upholstery a high-end music package and the special Bose speaker system, but he hated the idea of spending another day driving in it hours north into the West Michigan sales district. The Western Michigan rep was down with appendicitis. A key account had to have attention and they wouldn’t wait until the first of the year.

There is such joy in giving. I had just a taste of it when I was young.
When I was about fourteen years old I made fifteen dollars a week delivering the Dayton Journal Herald Monday through Saturday morning. In my neighborhood was a small store with bikes and toys and hardware called Western Auto. I was browsing in the store one day about a month before Christmas and my eyes fell on something I had always wanted myself when I was younger. It was …

Tomorrow is Hannah’s birthday. Here is a poem I wrote when see was born:
Our snow-enshrouded home was nestled
neath God’s providential care
Anticipating the arrival
of a special package there.
Then as if dispatched from heaven
borne on angel-wings
A parcel came to rest among
our festive fashionings
What a priceless little bundle
of life and dreams and love
Came into our home last Christmas
like a present from above.
Yuletide night my eyes were misty
if I must tell the truth
For the Christmas gift from heaven
of our precious Hannah Ruth.
Kenneth L. Pierpont
December 1989

Chuk came back from the bank next door yesterday and reported that one of the tellers is not in the Christmas spirit this year. “That’s sad,” I said. “We can’t have that.”

When I got out of bed this morning I sensed the Lord put a question in my heart. “Is your heart a treasure of good things?” Jesus said; “How can ye, being evil, speak good things? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the good treasure in his heart bringeth forth good things; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things…” (Matthew 12:34-35)

I was raised in a family of modest means, but I have very happy memories of every single Christmas growing up. Mom and Dad made things nice. There were always decorations, treats, gifts, and wherever my mom is there is music.
The music in our home was Christ-exalting music year ’round with no exceptions, but at Christmas time the music was especially beautiful and sacred. Mom played LP albums by Gloria Roe, Helen Barth, and Larry Whiteford all day long until I drifted into dreamy sleep.
We would …