It’s that time of year again—when Christmas is tiptoeing closer, and families everywhere are doing the annual shuffle of, “What are we doing for gifts this year?”
Between all of us, we’ve tried just about every system known to mankind—drawing names, setting dollar limits, rotating years, and of course, the ever-entertaining white elephant exchange. With our family still growing and most of us already blessed beyond measure, the white elephant once again won out. And that decision brings me right to the heart of this little devotional.
A couple of years back, several family members couldn’t make it home for Christmas. Since I’m one of those folks who believes Christmas is best celebrated with a houseful of people and a kitchen full of food, I invited some dear friends to join us. One of the couples was multicultural, and we explained our game plan: a big meal, lots of laughter, games, and sweet fellowship.
They kindly asked what they should bring. I told them food if they wanted—and maybe a gift for the white elephant exchange.
What I failed to realize back then was… they had no earthly idea what white elephant meant.
Christmas Day came, and the house filled with chatter, casseroles, and carried-in desserts. After we’d all eaten too much and rested just enough to catch our breath, it was time for the games. One of my daughters carefully explained the rules, and our guests caught on quickly—stealing gifts and laughing right along with the rest of us.
Then it happened.
When the gift our friends had brought was opened, every set of eyes in the room widened. Inside that little box was… Jesus. On a spring.
Yes, you read that right.
And wouldn’t you know it—I was the one who received the gift. Slowly, I lifted Jesus out of the box… and as soon as I did, He started to wiggle.
Our friends burst into laughter and explained they weren’t quite sure what kind of gift to bring, but they knew how much I loved Jesus—and they thought He’d be the perfect choice.
Standing there holding a wiggly, jiggly Jesus in front of my astonished family, I honestly didn’t know what to feel. Should I be horrified at the sacrilege of Jesus on a spring? Or should I laugh and accept their innocence and sweet intention?
Jesus was stolen a time or two before the game ended—but sure enough, He eventually made His way right back home to me. And by then, strange as it sounds, I’d grown rather fond of Him.
I noticed on the bottom there was an adhesive pad, meaning you could stick Him just about anywhere you wanted. I tucked Him away in a cabinet and wondered where in the world I’d ever put Him.
Days turned into weeks. Then one spring afternoon, I had a stroke of inspiration.
I stuck Jesus on our riding lawnmower.
I don’t rightly know why that idea tickled me so, but I figured it would give Him a front-row seat as my husband mowed the yard. The first time Phil cut the grass that season, Jesus wobbled back and forth on top of our John Deere like He was enjoying the ride. Phil didn’t notice Him at all until I pointed Him out when he pulled into the driveway.
“Don’t you like having Jesus with you while you mow?” I asked.
Phil smiled and said, “Why, yes… I do.”
A few months ago, the adhesive finally gave way, and Jesus tumbled off the mower. Phil brought Him inside, and I set Him right on the kitchen countertop. And now—every single day as I pass by—I glance at that little plastic Jesus on a spring and think what a precious, unexpected gift our friends truly gave us.
Because without even realizing it, they gave us a daily reminder of a powerful truth:
Jesus is with us wherever we go.
He sees what we do.
And He never leaves our side.
Our friends who gave us that gift are not yet saved—but they knew Jesus mattered to us. And ever since that Christmas, our jiggly little reminder has also nudged us to pray for them faithfully. Our hope is that one day they’ll come to know personally the Savior they once wrapped in wrapping paper.
So yes, that Christmas, we received
Jesus on a spring.
And somehow, it became one of the greatest reminders of faith I never expected.
I hope this little story made you smile—but even more than that, I pray it made you pause and remember:
Even if you don’t have your own
jiggly, wiggly Jesus, He is always with you.
You may not see Him.
You may not feel Him.
But He is near—and He loves you more than you’ll ever fully understand.
Hold on to that truth this Christmas. And if your heart gets a little heavy, just picture my Jesus bouncing along on a lawnmower… and smile.
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