My husband and I have always enjoyed attending the Christmas Eve service at our church. In the early years of our marriage, we had a special tradition of bundling up in warm clothing after the service to hike up a nearby hill where 350 glowing lights were strung from tall poles in the shape of a star. There—often in the snow—we’d whisper our reflections on Jesus’ miraculous birth while we gazed out over the city. Meanwhile, many people in the town were looking up at the bright, string-light star from the valley below.

That star is a reminder of the birth of our Savior. The Bible tells of magi “from the east” who arrived in Jerusalem seeking “the one who [had] been born king of the Jews” (Matthew 2:1-2). They’d been watching the skies and had seen the star “when it rose” (v. 2). Their journey took them onward from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, the star going “ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was” (v. 9). There, they “bowed down and worshiped him” (v. 11)