TD Jakes - Good Things Come in Small Packages
It’s that time; let’s go to work. I don’t intend to be before you alone, but I want to share a few things with you—just two scriptures, one from the Old Testament and one from the New: Luke 1:35 and Isaiah 9:6. I’m going to ask you to stand just for the reading of these two verses. Some of you haven’t read since last Sunday! What is amazing about Luke 1:35 is that we get to eavesdrop on a conversation between an angel and a woman. It is so powerful because the Holy Spirit, through the Gospel writer St. Luke, indulges us in the luxury of listening in on the Divine talking to the human. The angel answered and said unto her, «The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee. Therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.» Amen.
Now, let’s move to the next verse: «For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall be upon His shoulders. And His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace.» This morning, I want to talk from the subject «Good Things Come in Small Packages.» Let’s pray while we are standing. Father God, in the name of Jesus, we thank You because You are a good thing. Hallelujah! Above everything else we may do or accomplish in life—whether we forget or receive, or maybe it be conferred upon us—You are the premier gift. We honor You, we thank You, and we adore You. Every other gift has come from You, even if it came through someone else. I thank You because You taught me years ago that You often love us through people. Sometimes we get so enthralled with the pipe that we forget to thank God for the water. Bless us as we go into Your word today and do an amazing thing in us, in Jesus' name. Amen.
«Good things come in small packages,» say that with me. It is odd to me, the first time I read it, that the angel would have a conversation with a virgin who was espoused to be married and that he would refer to Jesus as a «holy thing.» It almost offended my senses because if you call me a «thing» when I’m a person, I would be offended. Yet, the text says He is a holy thing, which raises a question in my mind: why does the angel refer to Him as a holy thing? Perhaps it is in part because nowhere in history has it been done before that the God of the universe would reduce Himself down to His law’s common denominator, pour out of Himself all glory and honor, and wrap Himself in humanity to become subject to something He created. He humbled Himself; He is all the way God and yet all the way man. In one moment of the text, they call Him the Son of God, and at other times, they call Him the Son of Man. A holy thing means He’s nebulous; He will not be confined to the limitations of our descriptions. He is a holy thing.
This is not a carnal thing; this is not the consummation of a lustful act; this is a Divine occurrence. The Holy Ghost shall come upon your flesh. Ghost and flesh produce God in human form, and you shall conceive, and that holy thing which is within you shall be called the Son of God—absolutely amazing! Angels had never seen it, and yet the Bible says that the Lamb was slain from the foundations of the world. It was done in eternity before Adam. But you see, time is eternity’s usher. It is through time that it reveals that which was already done. You think you got healed when it was manifested, but the Bible says that by His stripes we were healed—past tense, already done. That means I was healed before I got sick. In another place, it says that He has determined the end from the beginning. You’re waiting to see how things are going to work out in the end; He already knows how it’s going to work out because it’s determined from the beginning. But you have to wait for time to usher in what is already done, and then you jump up and start shouting and say, «I got it!» But you only got what you already had. You all don’t hear what I’m saying to you.
You know, during the holidays, when you’re sitting with children—if you commemorate Christmas in that way, I’m not going to debate that with you—but if you’re sitting with children and you’ve got a bunch of gifts out there, it is natural for a child—almost instinctive for them—to open the biggest box first. We just cannot stand the curiosity of wondering what’s in that box. Every time y’all leave the room, the kids shake the box because they’re trying to figure out what’s in the box. We live in a society that suggests bigger is always better, but that’s not always true. A bigger car is not always better than a smaller one. A bigger church is not always better than a smaller one. A bigger person is not always stronger than a smaller one. But because man looks on the outward appearance, we are caught up with the package. And if the package is big, we think it must be better. But it is not always better because many times good things come in small packages.
I’m reminded of a story—let me just give you a little Christmas story. I was told of a young girl who was born and raised blind. She got tired of hearing everybody talk about how blue the ocean was or how bright the sun was, how wonderful the sea waves looked crashing against the rocks. Inevitably, rather than adjusting to her circumstances, she became increasingly bitter, antagonistic, resentful, and frustrated. We do that whenever we feel like everybody else got something we didn’t. Some of us are miserable not because we are miserable, but because we think other people got something better. I think it’s that childlike nature that never dies inside of us—that competitive nature to think that the gift I have been given equates with my value rather than the giver who gave it. And so, people say it is unwise to compare yourself with one another, yet if you have kids—more than one—they do compare. You bought Johnny a bike, and sometimes I’ve been wounded a lifetime because you bought me a tricycle, never considering that my legs were too short to reach the bike.
We compare ourselves with one another, not understanding that the gift is commensurate with our ability to manage what has been given. That’s why the Bible rebukes us for being covetous, because sometimes we crave what we couldn’t handle. This girl was bitter because everybody else could see. But a young man met her, and he thought she was amazing; he thought she was beautiful inside and out. He gave her something we all need—he loved her. He loved her, and he was the only person to whom she was not antagonistic or resentful because even though she could not see him, she sensed that he loved her. Love is something you sense. All of you who are trying to pay for it—you can’t buy it. And all of you who only feel love when you are given—you cannot count it. Love is sensed, not seen. She sensed that he loved her.
She said, «I love you too! I love you so much that if I could see, I would marry you. Just don’t think it’s right for me to marry you as I am, but if I ever get to where I could see.» He said, «You don’t have to see for us to get married. I love you the way you are.» She said, «Yeah, you’re okay with it, but I’m not okay with it. If I could see, I would marry you. You are so amazing, you are so wonderful; you’ve been so kind. You have been the reason that I live, you are the air I breathe, you are the energy in my walk, you are the brightness in my spirit, and if I could ever see, I would marry you.»
One day, he came to her and said, «I just got a report from the doctors. They found a donor, and if we go right now, you could get a transplant, and you could see.» She said, «Are you serious? Oh my God! Are you serious? You mean I could see, really?» «Yes,» he said. So they prepped her for surgery and rolled her in for the surgery, and they did the transplant. At first, with the bandages and the swelling and the darkness, she still couldn’t see. But as the bandages came off and the swelling went down, she opened her eyes to that which she had waited all her life for: the lights in the room, the colors on the walls, the draperies on the window—she could see! And she was happy until she looked over at him, and he was blind. He said, «I’m so happy for you! You got what you wanted; you can see! Will you marry me?» And she said, «Absolutely not! You’re blind! Am I marrying you?» He was crushed. He was devastated. He had that feeling that all of us have had at one time or another—being rejected. Rejection doesn’t ease up easily. As he took his stick and began to walk away, he turned and said to her, «Even if you don’t want me, I hope you enjoy my gift.»
You see, he was not just her lover; he was her donor. The only reason he was blind was so she could see. And I couldn’t help but think about Jesus, who had no sin, becoming sin for me. He who never committed adultery, never mistreated anyone, never stole anything, and never abused anybody loved me so much that He traded places with me. He went to the Cross as if He had done wrong. Yet some of us say, «Oh no, I can’t marry You,» and He says, «I’m only this way because I love you.» Two little, small things—changed his life, changed her life, and changed his life. He walked away blind so that she could see. Truly, He had borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.
You see, God is not really into big gifts; He’s into little things. You see an apple seed, but God sees an orchard—not just a tree, but the tree that produces more apples that produce more seeds that produce more trees that produce more apples—all in that one seed. So you toss the seed away while praying for orchards, realizing that the orchard you prayed for is in the apple seed and the vineyard that you needed was in the grape you rejected. The Bible states that the sustainability of all creation exists not in the power of the One who created it, but in the power of the seed He placed in creation. He only created one time, and after that, each thing produces seed after its own kind. God is a God of seed. There will always be, as long as the Earth remains, seed time and harvest. You shout about harvests and shy away from seed because you don’t recognize that all the harvest is the outworking of the seed.
This principle is so apparent that the writer of the Gospel of St. Luke has never met Isaiah; Isaiah is long since gone, and yet Luke records for us the power of a seed: «The Holy Ghost shall come upon you, and that which is within you is that holy thing.» I’m trying not to be prophetic; you think the enemy is fighting you over your harvest? Please! You know you don’t have that much harvest for the level of attack you’ve been under. You are not that important that you would have the kind of hell that has come against you in your life. So the enemy is not after your harvest; he’s after your seed because he understands that all of nature, before there was a Bible, is revealed through nature, according to the scripture. All that God is is revealed to us in seed. So be careful what you throw away.
Let’s go deeper: be careful who you throw away. Be careful how you despise the day of small beginnings because good things come in small packages. It is important that we celebrate the birth of Christ, not just the crucifixion and the resurrection of Christ. It is important that we celebrate the birth of Christ because God is giving us a seed—a seed, another zebra, the last man Adam, the first and the last. God is giving Him to us. Isaiah enunciates in detail what the angel declares in obscurity, for Isaiah says it this way: «Unto us a child is born.»
Let’s process this in small bites. It doesn’t say whether it’s a male child or a female child—no attributes about the child—just that a child is born. Isaiah, the Eagle Eye prophet, is prophesying to an oppressed people that a child is born. They’re thinking about the attacks they’re going through with Assyria, looking for a Messiah. He’s looking ahead. Sometimes God will speak to us about things that are beyond us, and while we are frustrated in this present moment, God may speak something to you that affects your child or your grandchild or your great-grandchild.
The first generation doesn’t mean you’re not going to get it. God is a generational God. I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Abraham, you’re going to start it; Isaac, you’re going to pass it; Jacob, you’re going to multiply it. But Abraham, you won’t complete it. However, I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll start with the seed. I’ll wait until your body is dead, and then I’ll give you a seed, and you’ll be able to pass through your body a seed that has a nation in it. You won’t get to see the nation; you will only see the seed in your lifetime. Your son will pass the seed, his son will multiply the seed, and all of them will die before the seed becomes a nation. But whether it is incubated in the dead room of Sarah or the dead atmosphere of Egyptian slavery, I am a birthing God. I am always birthing you from dimension to dimension, from faith to faith, from glory to glory. Unto us a child is born; that’s what we came to celebrate.
That’s why all the neighbors, friends, and company have come over to the house, because a child is born. That’s what we came to celebrate: the incarnation, that God would become man. A child is born, but don’t confuse the first phrase with the second one: «Unto us a son is given.» They’re not talking about the same thing. A child is born speaks to his humanity and his birth. A son is given, not in the Nativity, but at the crucifixion. He gave Jesus to Mary through birth, but the Son was given on Calvary. So Isaiah is speaking prophetically in phrases that we run together, thinking they all talk about the same thing, but he’s walking down through time— a child is born; a son is given.
A child is born doesn’t mean that he’s a man when he’s born; it doesn’t mean he’s a husband, leader, or overcomer when he’s born. He is just a child. Isn’t it amazing what God will put in a small package? You mothers and fathers holding babies in your arms have no idea who you’re holding because you’re looking at the seed, but God is looking at the harvest. And before it’s over, sometimes you’re an old man before you get to see it, and sometimes you never get to see who you really had an effect for. A child is born, and a son is given, and you think everything has to come through the first iteration of the gift, but that’s not necessarily true, because this is not about you; this is about what God is trying to do through you.
So God doesn’t have to answer all your questions in your lifetime; just do your job. Do what he told you to do and don’t worry about outcomes, because outcomes don’t always come while you are looking. You may be in the ground, but God will still be accomplishing His word in the earth, and it may not come through your child; it may come through your grandchild or your great-grandchild. But if you didn’t have the child, then they couldn’t have the grandchild. Come on, talk to me; I’m talking to somebody right now. Unto us a child is born, and unto us a son is given. And then there’s a hint of the Messiah: the government shall be upon his shoulders, and of his kingdom, there shall be no end.
Now listen, swaddled in clothes and laid in a manger, those little shoulders don’t seem like they could house the government upon them. What shows this? You haven’t seen them develop yet; you’re looking on the outside, at the natural. You’re crying about the natural— God is answering in the spiritual. The government shall be upon his shoulders, and of his kingdom, there shall be no end. When Jesus was born, Herod suspected and heard that he was more than just Joseph’s and Mary’s child; he was a king. So he decreed, «I gotta kill him because he’s a threat to my throne.»
Some people try to kill you because you’re a threat to their throne, and you say, «What is it about little old me that you would put me on a hit list while I’m still wrapped in rags, laid in a manger? I’m homeless!» Look at the contrast: born homeless, and then in the next few verses we read, they’re bringing frankincense, myrrh, and gold. That’s why the old folks used to say, «He’s so low you can’t get under him and so high you can’t get over him.» No matter how bad your story is, he can relate to you. If you don’t have a place to stay, he said, «I was born that way; I was born in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes; I was born with absolutely nothing.» Or if you’re rich and successful, he said, «Let me tell you what they brought to my party: they brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh.»
Because the contrast between the king and the kid is the breadth of how far God can reach. He can reach you; I don’t care how low you fall— he can reach you; I don’t care how high you are. This is the Lord that we serve; this is the king of glory; this is the Lamb of God; this is the mighty I AM. And it’s only a matter of time, because God sends good things in small packages. His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor. I took the time to do a little research on the Counselor because we’re living in a time where everybody is talking about counselors.
So I wondered if Jesus was telling me he’s a therapist— I’m wondering if I need to lay on the couch and let him talk to my head. That might be true, but that’s not what the text is talking about. The same word that is translated Counselor could also be translated Advocate; I have a wonderful advocate. Let me break it down this way: he’s my attorney, he pleads my case for me. When I feel like I’ve been mishandled and mistreated, I am not without representation; I have counsel. Every judge wants to know, «Do you have counsel?» And when you say, «Yes, I have counsel; I have a wonderful counselor; his name is Jesus,» he pleaded your case when you were not in the court.
He fought for you when you were not in the room. He defended you when Satan accused you; he stood up and cried out for mercy when justice was about to take you under. He was the one that was a wonderful counselor, and there are some people in this room celebrating not because they’ve been good but because they had a wonderful counselor, and he got you off. He dropped the charges and took your place. Oh God, have mercy, he’s a wonderful counselor! I don’t want the holy self-righteous, never-did-anything people to give God praise. I want the people who know they deserve to go to hell, who know they’ve done some wicked things, who know they’ve done some things they’re ashamed of, and still God blesses you.
I want you to praise the wonderful counselor! He pleaded your case, got your case out of court, delivered you, justified you— another judicial term; he justified you, fixed you up just as if you had never done what you did. And you’re living, driving, walking, and washing dishes in the grace of God. How dare you say God doesn’t love you? How dare you think that God doesn’t care about you? You have a wonderful counselor! You should have been deceased, you should have been dead, you should have been in a jail cell— who knows what would have happened to you? But now, by now, the wonderful counselor dropped the charges, and there you are crying about a bump on your finger when you ought to be shouting that you can see, that you can move, that you can live, that you can have your being.
I don’t know who I’m talking to, but I’m speaking to somebody today who’s stepping over small things, complaining about things that seem big to you. But God is not in the big stuff; he’s in the small stuff. I want somebody to praise him for that little thing he did, that little door he opened, that little way he made. I want the kind of crazy praise that doesn’t make sense: the people who are praising God because you got your hair done; the people who are praising God because you got your nails done because you couldn’t afford to get your hair done before. The people who are praising God because you got a car; the people who are praising God because you can breathe; the people who are praising God because you can stand up and your back doesn’t hurt; the people who are praising God because you can move, because you can digest your food— sitting on the toilet saying, «Thank you, Jesus!»
I want somebody who can praise God for some stuff you can’t testify about, but when you think of the goodness— when you think of the goodness— when you think of the goodness of Jesus, it’s not always in your garage, it’s not always in your house payment, it’s not always in your investment. Sometimes the goodness of God is being able to suck air, being able to move your heart— being regulated. That’s what you got for Christmas; you got another day, you got another week, you got more! Somebody take thirty seconds and praise him for what you got for Christmas; praise him for what he did in your life; praise him for the doors he opened; praise him for the way he made. It doesn’t make sense to anybody else, but praise him!
I want some folks that’ll praise him because you went to the beautician, because your mama used to do your hair! Praise him because you went to the barber shop because your mama used to put a little bowl on your head and cut your hair. You’re thankful for stuff that you can’t even explain to other people because until you’ve been through what I’ve been through, you don’t understand what my praise is about. So I guess I’ll just walk off and go about my business, but I was good to you when you couldn’t even see that I was good. I was there for you when you couldn’t even see that I was there. I was there for you when you were in your iniquity, in your sins, in your pit.
Somebody take the last ten seconds and praise him like you lost your mind! I feel something about to break in this place; I feel like the Holy Ghost is about to come upon you, upon your barrenness, upon your emptiness, upon your situation. God is going to do something for you—it’s going to look small at first, but the Holy Ghost said, «Don’t throw it away! Because through that small door, that person you’ve met and didn’t pay attention to, through that small conversation you had over a cup of coffee in Starbucks, God said a whole new dimension is about to emerge in your life through little things, because good things come in small packages.» So look at somebody and say, «It’s small, but it’s big, it’s small, but it’s big; you might not understand it, but it’s small, but it’s big.»
And when God gets through blessing me, you’re going to be surprised! You walked over me because you thought I was small. But when God gets to blessing me, you’re going to begin to understand that the stone which the builders rejected becomes the chief cornerstone. I hope you enjoy my gifts as I hasten to a close. The text reaches far and wide when it says, «Unto us a child is born,» and then he says that he is the Mighty God. Wait! I thought we were talking about a child, and yet in the same paragraph, you’ve reached from a child is born— a nameless child, a nebulous child, a holy thing, a little baby who poops on himself, pees on himself, and is nursing off your breast— and now you call him God!
Now I realize that he’s child enough to drink milk, and yet he’s God enough to have created it. He is man enough to get cold and need to be wrapped up and God enough to create the blanket that wrapped him up. He’s child enough to bow on a cross, but God enough to raise the tree that he knew would be the cross. I’m talking about the paradox of God, who is both child and God, Lord and Christ! He which is, and was, and is to come! He’s God over your trouble; he’s God over your crisis; he’s God over this country; he’s God over this generation; he’s God over your family. He’s God enough to run eight billion people and yet he’s sensitive enough to hear the cry of one.
Now he’s God! He’s God over cancer; he’s God over leukemia; he’s God over high blood pressure; he’s God over diabetes; he’s God over lameness; he’s God over dementia; he’s God over arthritis; he’s God over baptism. He’s God! The child that is born is the Mighty God. Now God, the Mighty God, means he’s a ruler; he’s in charge; he’s the boss; he’s the CEO; he’s the Ancient of Days; he is the I AM of Israel! Y’all don’t hear what I’m saying! He’s my shield and my buckler, he’s my way maker, and my bridge over troubled waters! He’s my joy and my peace, He’s my Lily in the valley and my bright Morning Star. He’s my doctor and my lawyer. Y’all hear what I’m saying to you? He’s woman enough to be the breastfed one, and yet He’s man enough to be our heavenly Father. Everything He needs, He has within Himself.
He is complete within Himself, lacking nothing. He didn’t even need Mary to create Jesus, because He made His first son by Himself. But He brought her in on the birthing process and partnered with a woman. He said, «I did the first one by Myself. I’m gonna do the second one with you.» Like I did with Moses, I hewed out the stone and wrote in it by Myself, but for the second one I said, «If you hew it out, I’m going to write on it.» Now, because I’m going to partner with you, as you get ready to go into 2023, God said, «I’m going to partner with you. I’m gonna partner with you. If you do your part, I’ll do my part.» Faith without works is dead. I’m glad you believe me, but you’re gonna have to work that thing. Slap somebody and say, «Work that thing!» He’s gone!
Somebody holler, «He’s gone!» Heaven is His throne, and Earth is His footstool. He’s gone before there was air, wind, or this or that—He’s God. Somebody shout, «He’s God!» Before the stars began to twinkle, He’s God. Before the clouds began to slide, He was God. He was God before H2O—whatever you analyze; He was still God. Before gravity had a name, He was God. Before the Earth was inhabited, He was God. Before the sun began to burn, He was God. That’s why Moses couldn’t find the beginning; he could find the beginning of the Earth, but he couldn’t find the beginning of God. So he said, «In the beginning, God.» Ancient of Days, David said, «From everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God.»
Somebody take a minute now and praise God over your problem, God over your situation, God over your crisis, God over your circumstance, God over your deliverance, God over your happiness. God over your needs, He’s God! I bow before Him; angels bow before Him—Heaven and Earth adore Him. He is God, the Mighty God, the God that can do exceedingly abundantly above all that we may ask or think. Tell three people and say, «He’s mighty!» Demons tremble when you say it—He’s mighty, mightier than any people, mightier than any disease. He’s a mighty God, but that’s not the most amazing part. Because He would be God if I were not His and He was not mine, He would still be God. Then they came along and sealed it and called Him the Everlasting Father. That’s when it got personal; that’s when it established that He is the Everlasting Father.
Wait a minute! Unto us, a child is born; unto us, a son is given! That means the same God who played Son played Father. Don’t be amazed—you’ve seen Tyler Perry do it; you’ve seen Eddie Murphy do it. The same one who played this played that. God is a play actor; He played Son and Father and Holy Ghost. This is the mystery of God. Here, let me stop. This is why we’ll never figure it out, because it’s the same power playing all three roles. You say, «He’s a Trinity,» but yet He says He’s one God. We argue back and forth, and neither one of us is wrong, because you can have one God that can do three things, because He’s God all by Himself. He didn’t have to hire anybody to play the other part. He is the Son, the equivalent of the Father Abba. He’s mine in the calm stillness of the night, with shepherds grazing in the field and sheep all gathered around.
So He is the Prince of Peace. Let me say it like the Bible says—He is the Prince! So what if He gave me a car and I don’t have any peace? So what if I get a ten-bedroom house and I can’t sleep in it? So what if I make a hundred million dollars a year and everything I eat, I throw up? He is the Prince of Peace. When I was young and I got saved, I grew up in the Baptist church. I got Spirit-filled in the storefront church, and when I got in the storefront church, everybody was dancing. We don’t dance now—you know what I’m talking about. They were dancing! See, y’all don’t know what it is—see somebody dancing on the back of a pew. And I was so amazed at them dancing all over the church.
When church was out, they would still be dancing, and they’d have to hold their heads, but they put them in the car with no music, with no music and no drums. They would still be dancing, because they heard the music. That’s why they said, «Over my head, I hear music in the air.» Y’all don’t hear what I’m saying to you. Sometimes, service would go on till midnight, and it didn’t get right 'til the clock struck twelve, and at midnight, somebody would grab the mic and say, «At midnight, Paul and Silas prayed,» and the shout would break out again. Sometimes, we were getting out when the club was closing, and they were drunk off of Boone’s Farm, while we were drunk on the Holy Ghost, and you couldn’t tell who was the most drunk, because they were staggering and we were staggering.
I’m talking about the power! Somebody in here knows a little something about the power of God—the power of God! So when I was young, I said, «Lord, I want that joy. Give me that joy, that unspeakable joy, that joy that can dance through heartache, that can dance through trouble, that can dance through tests.» Give me that kind of joy that can make me dance around a pot-bellied stove and not get burned. Give me that kind of joy that can dance from the backs of pews and never lose my balance. Give me that kind of joy! And I say, «This joy that I have, the world didn’t give it to me, and the world can’t take it away! Give me that power. I want that joy.» But when I got older, I said, «Lord, I thank You for the joy, but if I’m gonna survive, give me that peace. Give me that peace—the kind of peace that my head isn’t spinning when I lay on my pillow. Give me that peace that I can walk through folks talking about me and not have any concern at all about what they think. Give me that peace, so that when I face a storm, I can face it and have the storm on the outside and not have the storm on the inside.»
So yesterday, as I closed, my pipes froze and burst. My wife came and got me, and it was raining in the kitchen, flooding, and we were trying to keep it from getting all through the house. So we got a ladder; I climbed up on the ladder. My son and my daughter-in-law came over—they were running squeegees and mops and throwing down towels, and the water was still flooding in. I walked up on the ladder, and the cold, frigid water was pouring down on me. I had gone from cooking to being doused in cold water. When I got a minute, I texted my sister and told her to turn her water on because my pipes just froze. I’m still trying to protect everybody from going through what I’m going through.
My sister was worried; she kept calling me. «Are you okay?» I said, «I’m fine; the kitchen is flooded, my clothes are wet!» It flooded so bad, it set off the alarm system. The alarm wouldn’t shut off because the short got in it, so every five minutes the alarm was going off and they were calling the house thinking there was a breach in security! So, I’m answering the phone, running back in the room, and the enemy said, «I’m gonna ruin your holiday.» And you know what I said? «No, you’re not! No, you’re not! No, you’re not!» The very fact that I know you want to do it, that’s the very fact I’m not going to let you do it! Because in order for you to ruin my holiday, I have to surrender my peace!
Now, I can’t control the pipes, but I can control—y’all don’t hear what I’m saying to you! So after a while, the guys came in, and they took over. Then we found, we cut the water off, we found where the leak was. They went to the store, and we fixed that leak. Then they said, «We’ve got another leak.» I said, «Okay.» I asked, «Does it stop the water from coming into this part of the kitchen?» They said, «No.» I said, «Good! I’m gonna keep cooking!» So while I’m preaching here, I’ve got water in some places and dryness in other places, but that doesn’t matter, because you can mess with my water, but you can’t mess with my peace! Because somewhere down inside, I have peace!
To all of you who are in a position right now that maybe you didn’t get what you wanted, or people didn’t do what you wanted them to do, or you went through some loss, some grief, some pain, or some trouble, or you’re watching online and you don’t have the TV Christmases which are produced with actors and you think their life is better than yours, and you’re a little bit ticked with God because you don’t have what you see on TV—He has borne your griefs and carried your sorrows and gave all that He had that you might see.
And now you’ve got eyes, yet still can’t see. You see, you thought when the girl got surgery that now she could see, and you felt sorry for the man because now he was blind. But he had more sight in his blindness than she had sight with her eyes. To every one of you that is in this room that cannot see what He gave you, and you can’t see that He loved you, you can’t see that He stood by you when everybody turned against you, and you can’t see that if it were not for His goodness, you wouldn’t be alive.
And now you’re thinking about getting saved? What is there to think about? Your next breath—you can’t catch it if He doesn’t give it to you! And if you can’t see that, then you can’t see the good things come in small packages. This is not about trees, decorations, lights, gifts, cooking, food, friends, or family—functional or dysfunctional. This day is about the ultimate gift, and you can’t see it because good things come in small packages. You’re mad at your mama and not glad you had a mama—not a perfect mama or a great one—but you had a mama!
You’re angry at your father, but if you didn’t have one, you wouldn’t be here to be angry. You’re angry at your children, but if the phone rang and said they were dead, whatever you’re fussing about would seem silly. Good things—the best things in life are the small things. You fall in love with somebody not for the big things; it’s the little things. It’s the twinkle in your eyes, the way you lay your head on my chest, the way you keep checking on me and calling on me. It’s the way you ran to my rescue when you thought I was hurting. It’s not always the big flashy stuff; my own packages. And every good thing you’ve got—if you don’t appreciate it, and you belittle it and make it small, you will always lose it because you don’t see the value of small things.