It’s the night before Christmas, the culmination of the
season. For weeks, we have been surrounded
by Santa Clauses and reindeer, with gifts and Christmas Trees, with clichéd Christmas
songs and ugly sweaters. And if we aren’t
careful, in this climate of materialism and showmanship, the Christmas story
could easily become simply another part of the season, like a fairytale or folk
story, like a Disney movie, where everyone lives “happily ever after” and you
can almost “feel a song coming on” every few minutes. The baby Jesus could
become a figurine like Rudolph to be set on a shelf and admired, part of a
story to be told and laughed at in all its absurdities.
But the beauty of the Christmas story isn’t in its “fairytale”
simplicity. It is in the gritty
realities of God’s plan of salvation, in the way that God stepped into our brokenness.
Think of it, our
Savior entered into …
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The confusing
and awkward life of a teenager. By all
accounts, Mary was a very young teenager at the time she became pregnant. Her body was changing, her emotions and
hormones were likely running rampant, like most teenagers in those awkward and
insecure years. She may have had
pimples, struggled with weight gain/loss and the general discomfort all girls
experience during those years. And as if
these things weren’t enough, she was preparing to get married, with all the
butterflies and nerves of a first date. And
with all these crazy emotions and changes, God tells her that He has
hand-chosen her to bear His Son into the world.
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A relationship
strained by fears of betrayal. No
matter how faithful Joseph was, no matter how kind and warm-hearted he was, no
matter how well he thought he knew Mary and her reputation, the realization
that she was in fact pregnant before they were married must have come as quite
a shock. The rejection, the betrayal,
the fears of inadequacy must have been intense.
And even after an angel appeared to him to ease his mind, Joseph must
have struggled to understand his role in God’s plan. He’d been sort of side-stepped in the
process.
-
A world
of vicious rumors and righteous indignation. When it became known that Mary was pregnant
before she was married, when Joseph’s intentions to quietly divorce her made it
clear that the baby was not his – think of the things that must have been said
of them. Their own families may have
turned them out, may have questioned their integrity, been ashamed of
them. People may have crossed the street
to avoid them in town, may have barred their entrance to the Temple, due to
presumed sin. Imagine the biting comments
of the righteously indignant crowds, the grandmothers, the busybodies who
passed judgment without seeking God’s counsel and insight. Mary and Joseph hadn’t done anything wrong;
in fact, they were exactly in the
center of God’s plan for them – and yet they were likely met with opposition at
every turn.
-
Financial
stress and uncertainty. Facing
likely opposition from both families, just married and with a baby on the way, things
financially were likely very difficult Joseph and Mary. And when the news of further taxation
arrived, requiring them to travel extensively when Mary was nine months
pregnant, I’m sure “rejoicing” wasn’t the word that jumped immediately to mind.
-
Exhaustion
and discomfort. Swollen and uncomfortable,
lacking sleep (as most third trimester pregnant women are), and feeling the
baby move more every day, Mary and Joseph packed up their donkey and began the
journey to Bethlehem. It would not have
been an easy journey for them. As a
young teenager, Mary likely did not even understand the changes that were
happening in her body, the pain that she would soon endure. Imagine Joseph, too, trying to protect his
young bride from the cruelty of the community’s comments, waking up at night with
each of her tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable, worrying about how to
provide for her and the baby when he arrived, trying to learn the role of a
husband with little support from anyone around them.
-
Desperation
and isolation. Her water broke. She wasn’t ready. They
weren’t ready. They didn’t even have a
place to stay. There were no cribs or
mobiles or changing tables. The nursery
didn’t even exist. They’d been
travelling for days over difficult terrain, on a donkey (an animal particularly
known for being stubborn and difficult), in a community they did not know, with
a sullied reputation and emotionally weary hearts. With the contractions coming closer and
closer together, desperation likely set in.
Sweat poured down the young Mary’s face, longing for comfort, for a
midwife, for someone to hold her hand and tell her what to expect. Joseph too, desperate to provide his wife
some relief, to find a place for their baby to come into the world, was turned
away at every door. Couldn’t they hear
her cries? Couldn’t they understand that
there was a baby on the way? That they
needed some help? But the inn was suspiciously
“full.” Perhaps the innkeepers had heard
the rumors, the gossip and hurtful comments about the young woman found to be “with
child” before her wedding day. Perhaps
they joined in the barrage of criticism as they turned them away or settled for
a condescending look. But, finally, a
stable was offered, more out of pity than hospitality. As Joseph hurried his trembling wife to the
stable, I’m sure he wondered if kindness would ever be shown to them again.
-
Filth and
pain. With no epidural or medical
attention of any kind, Mary’s labor experience would have been lengthy,
exhausting, and frightening on so many levels.
Surrounded by filth, manure, and animals, it was the last place on earth
she would have wanted to start her family’s life together. Joseph, for the first time in his life, was
seeing his young wife’s exposed form, trying to deliver a baby and offer
reassurance, though he had no idea what he was doing. Can you imagine the fear? What if something went wrong? Who could he call? It had been made abundantly clear to them
that no one in the inn was interested in helping them. It must have felt like it was never going to
end, shivering in the shadows and crying out for relief among the other
livestock.
And into all of this – into the fear and the pain, into the
muck and the darkness, into the confusion and exhaustion, into the emotional
torment and isolation of two young people –came the innocent cries and coos of
a baby, a baby who was destined to change the world He had created.
It’s funny how imperfect the plan of God seems at times, how
it must have seemed to that young couple so many years ago. How imperfect it still seems at times – when we
are exhausted and alone, shivering and hurt by the comments of others. And yet, into all the confusion of this life,
of our walk with God, comes a glimmer of hope, the sweetness and light of a baby,
a Savior. He’s an unlikely candidate,
wrapped in a blanket in a feeding trough, surrounded by animals of all kinds,
turned away from all decent society, but that’s who He came to save – the
outcasts, the ones who have been turned away and rejected all their lives. From His very first moments, He knew our
pain, our agony, our loneliness. He knows
the fears of young mothers, riddled with self doubt and terrified that there
will be no one to show them what to do with a baby – because He saw it in his
mother’s eyes. He knows the fear of adoptive
and step-fathers, looking at a baby that isn’t theirs, wishing they’d have been
able to provide a better start for them, unsure of what to do or what to say –
because He saw it in Joseph’s eyes that night. And within just a few days, He would know what
it was to be hunted, to be hated by someone who had never met Him, to be
attacked when He was powerless to protect Himself – like we have all felt at
some point or another.
That is the beauty
of Christmas. Not that a baby was born
and surrounded by shepherds and wise men who travelled from afar. Not that it was a “silent night” or a
fairytale by any stretch of the imagination, but that our God stepped into the
brokenness and chaos of our world, to meet us where we are, to welcome us into
His arms, to offer us hope. He came to
meet our insecurities with His ability, to help us face the terrifying realization
that we can’t do it on our own and to invite us to turn to Him in those moments. He came as a baby to offer us innocence, a
fresh start, to remind us that our God longs to nurture us, to tend to us, to
care for our needs.
Nothing about the Christmas story was easy, polite, or “cutesy.” It was messy, imperfect, riddled with big
emotions and danger – much like our lives are today. But the amazing part of it is – just like
Jesus entered the scene all those years ago, God is still longing to enter the
story of our lives, to come into the mess and the chaos, to be present, to work
miracles, to bring peace and awe again. I hope that this Christmas season, you see
the gritty reality of the Christmas story and that you welcome Him into the
mess of your life, like I am daily learning to do. I hope you are awed by all the messy
wonderful moments God gives you and the way that His plan breaks through the
ordinary everyday.
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