Read: Luke 2:1-20
It’s arguably the most famous story in the world. A man and his young wife travel to a crowded city to register for a census. She is hugely pregnant and unfortunately, the city is so crowded, they can’t find a bed—a real problem since it seems that tonight, of all nights, she is in labor. They manage to find a stable just in time for a sweet baby boy to be born. Meanwhile, out in the fields, some shepherds are tending their flocks when a whole bunch of angels appear. The angels tell the shepherds to hurry into the city to check out this new baby because He is super important. A king, in fact. The result is a sweet tableau of shepherds, animals, parents, and a baby nestled peacefully in a stable under a huge star (which isn’t actually in the account of the nativity).
It’s beautiful.
Of course, underneath the manger scenes we arrange on our mantels is a much scarier moment that few artists dare to depict. A first-time father who has never even seen his wife naked, ashamed to have only a barn to offer and winging this birth thing as best he can. A young girl feeling herself rip open without a doctor, nurse, or even her mother to reassure her. The two of them have to clean mucus, blood, and membrane from the baby as he wails in the night air. There’s only straw and some rags to wrap around him. The poor new mother is exhausted, sweaty, and dirty, but here come some shepherds to stare at her and the baby. She’s a better woman than I would have been. Maybe at least the animals are calm, or maybe they are smelly and nervous.
But you know all this also. It is a story that has been told over and over from every direction until we can repeat it verbatim with Linus.
And this is the rub. It is one of the most important stories in the world, but it is also one of the oldest, most repeated stories, and therefore, for many, it falls into the background of Christmas. It shouldn’t. In a perfect Christmas world, the story would make us breathless every time.
God become man.
An inexperienced girl and her carpenter husband—entrusted with the Savior of the world.
Messages passed by angels.
Satan’s plans taking a massive hit.
The Bible says this is a memory that Mary treasured and pondered. It was not trauma to forget. It did not fade with the years. It was a treasure. She poured over it. I wonder if she and Joseph relived it on quiet nights together. “Do you remember how beautiful He was? Do you remember how scared we were? Do you remember when you held my hand and told me that the Lord would surely not forsake His promises to us?” I wonder if it was a favorite story to tell Jesus Himself, the boy’s eyes growing wide as Joseph described shepherds and kings bowing low. It was as miraculous as the parting of the Red Sea, only it was about their own little family. It surely never grew old to them.
How do we keep the story fresh for ourselves? How do we, like Mary, protect this treasure? Because we must. Wouldn’t it please our enemy the Devil if we let our hearts grow apathetic to it? If our shopping lists overshadowed God’s greatest gift to us?
I think it must be a matter of prayer. We are human, prone to wander and forget. We get tangled up in tinsel and toys. Without meaning to, we fill our holiday calendars until there isn’t a moment to breathe, much less to treasure and ponder. If we leave it to ourselves, we will set up and take down our nativity scenes without noticing that God is in the middle of them. Breaking out of these habits and seeing the story as new can only be accomplished by a movement of the Spirit.
Oh Spirit, forgive us for taking the miracle for granted. Give us quiet in the day to reflect on the Christ child. Set our hearts on the humility of Jesus. Fix our eyes on that holy night and the angels and the sheep and the manger. Breathe new life into a story we’ve heard and told one thousand times before.
Jesus, thank You for taking on our flesh. We want to worship You. We want to adore. We want childlike wonder. For there is nothing old and boring about You or Your story, only we are too dull to see the beauty sometimes.
Father, there are people out there who have never heard how You came to this weary world. Would You put those people in our paths? Grant us the opportunity to tell afresh the life-giving story of Your Son. Would You give us the chance to see joy in the eyes of someone who needs a miracle? Holy Trinity, we pray that You would expand the number of Your followers bowing before the manger this Christmas until You receive every ounce of the glory You deserve.
