J. Grant Swank, Jr.


The lowliest manger scene anywhere in the whole wide world has more witness power to truth than a trillion bogus climate change summits throughout the universe.


The Christmas trees have been banned so that those not Christian won’t be wounded by the Christian symbol. Now that’s the acclaimed summit hype for you, human being made in the image of God.


Also, that’s the might of a Christmas tree. Imagine several hundred of them all lit up to awaken the senses of happy walkers this glorious holy season.


Christmas trees are the target every year. They are those innocent growths that God plants throughout His creation. But when they are placed as a sight to behold at Christmastide, all of a sudden they are as daggers to the crusted, unbelieving heart.


It’s December. Welcome to our nuthouse world..


What about anybody at the conference, or hundreds of feet from the summit entrances, wearing a cross around a neck or on a bracelet?


What about the Muslim wrap-around-all?


What about a Hindu head covering?


I was driving through our Maine countryside the other evening, taking my time wandering back roads. Here and there I came upon lights. Some were atop hills. Others were cuddled in amongst valley dips.


Then I came upon Hiram—a tiny village along the Saco River. In the center of that cluster of dwellings was this huge Christmas tree. Any other time of year it would be simply a large tree securely growing in the middle of a park.


But in December the lights make it a Christmas tree. It’s there every December. No one complains. Instead, villagers revere it.


Then I noted from house to house the manger scenes—Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. The drive was a little over an hour long, so I had plenty of nativity scenes to take in. Some were large, elaborate arrangements. Others were simple outlines in lights.


My heart rejoiced every time I came upon a Christmas tree and the nativity witness.


As I read about the brain dead banning the beauty of Christmas trees many miles from where I live—thank God—I thought it time again to get in the car for another countryside drive.