Many years ago a striking card was published with the title, "If Christ Had Not Come." It told of a preacher falling into a short sleep in his study on Christmas morning and dreaming of a world into which Jesus had never come.
In his dream he found himself looking through his home, but there were no little stockings in the chimney corner, no Christmas bells or wreaths of holly, and no Christ to comfort, gladden and save. He walked out on the public street, but there was no church with its spire pointing to heaven. He came back and sat down in the library, but every book about the Saviour had disappeared.
The door-bell rang, and a messenger asked him to visit a poor dying mother. As he reached the home he sat down and said, "I have something here that will comfort you." He opened his Bible to look for a familiar promise, but it ended at Malachi, and there was no Gospel and no promise of hope and salvation, and he could only bow his head and weep with her in bitter despair.
Two days afterward he stood beside her coffin and conducted the funeral service, but there was no message of consolation, no word of a glorious resurrection, no open heaven, but only "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," and one long eternal farewell. He realized at length that "He had not come," and burst into tears and bitter weeping in his sorrowful dream.
Suddenly he woke with a shock, and realizing that it was only a dream, a great shout of joy and praise burst from his lips. Let us also be glad and rejoice today, because "He has come."
—From Streams in the Desert