The best gifts are often the hardest to receive, especially when they are costly and leave us feeling undeserving or vulnerable. This truth is illustrated in O. Henry’s 1905 “The Gift of the Magi,” a short story about a young, poor, married couple, Jim and Della.
As Christmas approaches, Della wants to buy Jim a special gift but has very little money saved. In a selfless act, she sells her long, beautiful hair — her most prized possession — to buy a platinum chain for Jim’s treasured pocket watch. On Christmas Eve, when Jim comes home, Della discovers that he too has made a similar sacrifice: he sold his watch to buy her a set of lavish combs for her hair.
The story’s ironic twist highlights the deep love and selflessness of Jim and Della, even as their gifts become unusable in the short term. The narrator concludes,
Here I have told you the story of two children who were not wise. Each sold the most valuable thing he owned in order to buy a gift for the other. But let me speak a last word to the wise of these days: Of all who give gifts, these two were the most wise. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are the most wise.
These “difficult” gifts — difficult to give and even more difficult to receive — reveal a deeper truth about love and generosity: it is often harder to receive than to give.
Accepting a costly gift, especially one involving great personal sacrifice, can stir in us feelings of dependence, vulnerability, or inadequacy. Accepting such a gift acknowledges our inherent need, which can be a struggle for those who value self-reliance. It can also open us to a sense of obligation or indebtedness, which is often awkward and uncomfortable. All this can be accompanied by a sense of unworthiness as we reflect on the cost of a gift and our inability to repay it. What makes a gift “difficult” depends largely on the generosity of the giver — the more extravagant the gift, the more humbling it is to receive.
Jim and Della’s costly gifts pale in comparison to the supremely valuable gift we celebrate at Christmas. God’s gift of Jesus came at an unimaginable cost: He gave himself to us utterly, without reserve. How can such a gift even be received? We cannot match God’s generosity, nor can we give anything to God that he lacks. Amid all the joy and lights and festivity, Christmas reminds us that we stand empty-handed before an unimaginably generous God, with nothing to offer but ourselves, our souls, and bodies, sin-sick and frail and gradually returning to the dust from which we came.
And yet this posture of vulnerability before God is a good place to be. Receiving Jesus requires us to confront our sin, let go of pride, and admit our dependence. It is to stand before the cross and realize the staggering cost of our salvation. Recognizing that we have nothing to offer God is a foundational truth of the spiritual life, a truth that ultimately frees us to offer ourselves back to God in gratitude.
This Christmas, as we reflect on God’s difficult gift — how Christ poured himself out, taking the form of a servant; how, being born for us, Christ was born as one of us, to live and die for us — we are invited to present ourselves as a thanksgiving offering to the God who has made and is remaking us.
What does this look like? It might mean giving of our time, our resources, or our talents. It might mean surrendering our plans, our comforts, or our self-sufficiency. It could mean extending grace to a family member who has caused deep hurt or showing compassion to someone who holds opposing political views. It may involve forgiving someone who has betrayed our trust or letting go of long-festering resentments.
Whatever we offer, it flows from hearts transformed by that costly gift we have received from a loving Father, the gift that bears the name Jesus Christ.
The Rt. Rev. Joseph “Joey” Royal is a Guest Writer. He is Canadian Anglican bishop currently serving with the Christian Embassy of Canada, a non-profit organization dedicated to ministering to diplomats, politicians, and business leaders. He resides in Ottawa, Ontario, with his wife, Jennifer, and their son, Benjamin.