No Room for a Christmas Child

I am reposting this from last year.  It's been translated into Norwegian and is supposed to appear on a website in Norway this Christmas as well.  If you are interested in this theme, of Norwegian Christmases in Brooklyn, you can find more at Sounds of Hope.  Hope you enjoy!


I have many Christmas stories. I imagine everyone over the age of ten has at least a few Christmas stories. I always thought of myself as a bit of Christmas child. No my birthday isn’t in December or near Christmas. My birthday comes in early November. So why am I a Christmas child? Well I suppose everyone who knows Jesus is a Christmas child. So how is my story different? I think that my life in Christ started at Christmas.

My parents were born-again, spirit-filled people. My spiritual heritage runs very deep.  From what I understand, I was “unexpected.”  My father was already in his 50’s and my mother, 19 years younger than my dad was in her early 30’s. They had decided ten years before that their family was complete.

God evidently had something else in mind.  I came along. 

Our family traditions were all Norwegian. Christmas Eve was the start of Christmas in our Norwegian neighborhood in Brooklyn. We put up our tree and had our presents all on Christmas Eve.  We were still singing around a Christmas tree well into January.

Christmas day was for church.  We’d dress up in the morning and walk to church. It was just like Sunday minus Sunday School. Sometimes we would crunch in the snow or put on galoshes for the slush of a melting snow. There was a holy hush on Christmas morning.

Of course, I remember nothing of my first Christmas. I was seven weeks old. I would beg my mother to tell me the story though; I loved to hear it.  That first Christmas my parents walked to church on Christmas morning with me.  It was the first time I was carried to church. I imagine I was wrapped up in many blankets.

That Sunday morning, a white haired tall Norwegian Pastor with a strong accent asked the Yohannesen’s (Johannesen) to come to the front.  Something very special was going to happen that morning. The new baby girl in the Yohannesen family, Yoyce Ann Yohannesen was going to be dedicated to the Lord.

That morning, my parents passed their unexpected infant daughter over to Pastor Dahl. He prayed. I wonder if he had any prophetic sense when he prayed over me. In recent years, I’ve had a sense that my dad had some prophecies concerning me. Did any of them know or sense anything then?

It all started there… it all started in a little Norwegian Pentecostal church where everyone had an accent and sang about the Vonderful Grase of Ye-sus.  My life was given over to the Lord.  No, it didn’t assure my salvation, but it did start something.

Every Christmas as the annual church Christmas program would near, I would have to learn a long “piece.” A “piece” is your part of the Christmas program. It starts when you are barely old enough to talk and you get up and say “Welcome baby Jesus” and sing Away in a Manager complete with motions. The parents beam and pray you don’t cry or do something inappropriate like pick your nose,  wet your pants or worse.

 We had an old upright piano. My mother didn’t play well but she would look for a song for me to sing. A solo! In addition to the LONGEST piece or narration in the program.  Early in my life, she found a song for me. The words of the chorus have stayed with me all these years:

"No room for the Baby in Bethlehem's inn,

Only a cattle shed!

No room on this earth for the dear Son of God,

Nowhere to lay His head!

Only a cross did they give to my Lord,

Only a borrowed tomb!

Today He is seeking a place in your heart,

Will you still say to Him - no room?"

Year after year after year, I would stand with a new outfit on, in front of the congregation, and sing this song.  I always thought someone would come to the Lord, every time I sang that song.

My father was a janitor at a bank, my mother a homemaker. My father never went to High School and my mother didn’t finish it. They lived in a two-bedroom first floor railroad flat apartment. Times were hard for them. They had no room for the new baby that God gave them. Nevertheless, they made room for me.  And then, they dedicated me to the Lord.

Jesus came to earth as an unexpected child. There was no room for Him that night in Bethlehem.  That seems tragic. There is a greater tragedy. It is that we make so little room for Him in our hearts.

Today I ask you that question that I sang for many years. 
Today He IS seeking a PLACE in YOUR heart! 

Will you still say to Him - no room?

Don't Be A Scrooge, Raise Your Ebenezer

For 16 years of my life, I was blessed to live in the little town of Cromwell Connecticut. Like most New England towns, it had its quirks. One of the quirks was the celebration of Memorial Day. Cromwell disregarded the three-day weekend accommodation. In Cromwell, May 30, and ONLY May 30 was the day to celebrate Memorial Day.

If May 30 fell on a weekday, the parade would be in the early evening. The parade consisted primarily of the various little leagues, the fife and drum corps, the honor star parents and the Legend. The parade would end at the town green. The American Legend handed out flags while we waited for the ceremony to begin. The ceremonial speech would always include a reference to keeping Memorial Day as May 30. To rousing applauds, it was proclaimed that Cromwell would ALWAYS keep May 30^th as the only official Memorial Day remembrance.

The school year in Connecticut usually runs until mid-to-late June. The children have the opportunity to learn about the meaning of Memorial Day. They also experienced Flag Day that comes in mid-June. Many a year I stood outside the elementary school for the annual Flag Day program. I miss those days.

Recently, I have been involved in another type of Memorial remembrance. On Facebook, I started a group to honor and remember the church of my childhood, Salem Gospel Tabernacle in Brooklyn NY. I’ve written about the church before. It was a Norwegian ethnic Pentecostal church with no strong ties to any American Pentecostal denomination. Its theological ties were to Norway.

I don’t remember exactly my thought process when I decided to start that group. It was probably a day where I was feeling nostalgic. I probably had googled the name of the church. Or perhaps I was looking for specific people. At the time, I probably didn’t think that I was being led by the Holy Spirit at the time.

But I was. There is a Biblical concept of Ebenezer. (See 1 Samuel 7:12) The word Ebenezer in Hebrew means Stone of Help. Its concept is also that the stone is a symbol to call to remembrance the help of the Lord.

That Facebook group for people, who were helped, shaped, formed and grew in Christ through a unique ethnic church in Brooklyn NY has become an Ebenezer. I am in awe of how God has brought nearly 100 of us from various generations together. There is energy to the group. We share and laugh, but ultimately, we honor our elders.

The Pastor of my childhood was a very significant person in my life. I remember him well. He was the type of pastor that poured his life into his ministry.  His daughter now advanced in years she has joined the group. She has shared how blessed she is that her father is remembered. I see God’s Spirit at work as we honor those who gave their lives in both small and big ways to the work of the gospel in that local church. 

Through this Facebook page, we are erecting a virtual Ebenezer. We view pictures of our lives, each one contributing what they have. Excitements rise as a new person is located and joins the group or as new pictures are posted.

I would never want to take anything away from honoring our veterans on Memorial Day. However, we have people who fought the good fight of faith. There are people in our lives who gave their lives for us. Maybe you need to raise an Ebenezer to them in some way. If you know where they are, maybe you could call them, write them, email them, and tell them how much you appreciate their service for the Kingdom.

The scripture is full of metaphors to being in a battle. Today, I will visit the cemetery to pay respects to my parents. While I am there, I will also visit two other graves. One of those graves is that of an officer in the Lord’s army, another former Pastor. The other is that of a former teacher and officer in the Lord’s army. Both gave their lives for the work of the gospel – they gave it all and now I will honor them.

Who might you honor today?