A teenage girl and her husband—two insignificant peasants, from an insignificant village, in an insignificant country—travel to an insignificant town. While there, she gives birth to a baby boy, in the most insignificant of places—not in a hospital, or a house, or even a toolshed. No, this couple’s baby entered the world in the humblest place we could imagine. He was literally “born in a barn.” By now, I imagine you’ve figured out we’re talking about Jesus.

We were driving through Kansas around midnight with two small children. The hotels were filled in every town we passed through. Eventually, we spotted a sign flashing Vacancy. Approaching the office, I prayed the desk clerk hadn’t forgotten to turn on the No Vacancy sign. In retrospect, perhaps we should have kept driving…

“You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” We’ve heard that time-worn cliché a thousand times— because it’s true. In 1911 the Mona Lisa disappeared for two years. It was stolen. What followed was one of those head-shaking-try-and-figure-this-out experiences. During the two years of its absence, more people visited the spot where Da Vinci’s masterpiece had previously rested than actually viewed the Mona Lisa in the two years prior to its theft! Why? Because we don’t know what we’ve got till it’s gone. Our human default is to move through life more concerned about what we don’t have than to focus on the gifts we possess.

Author Max Lucado tells the story of a boy who spied a box of puppies in a pet store window. Stepping inside, he asked the owner, “How much are the puppies?” Learning the price, he headed out. For the next two weeks, he mowed lawns, washed cars, and did extra chores. Finally, he returned and plopped a wad of crumpled bills on the counter. The owner counted them and said, “Okay, go pick out your puppy.” The boy immediately chose a dog with a limp foot.

An eleven-year-old Alabama boy faked his own kidnapping in order to hide a bad report card. He told his parents an armed man took him from school at gunpoint and threatened to kill him. The lad claimed he escaped by jumping out of the assailant’s car, but was unable to grab the book bag containing his report card. Eventually the boy confessed to inventing the story.

Diocletian. His name must have struck terror in the hearts of fourth-century Christians. In 303 A.D. this Roman Emperor launched a brutal assault aimed at obliterating Christianity throughout the Roman Empire. Diocletian’s attack was not the first against believers, but certainly the most ruthless.

Herb Jackson served as a missionary in a developing nation for several years. His mission agency provided him a car, but after a short time, it wouldn't start. For two years, he push-started the vehicle each morning by "borrowing" some boys from the local school to give it a shove. Then he made his rounds for the day, always parking on a hill or leaving the engine running.