A Christmas Talk

 This Christmas season I have seen a vision. Not a real one, but one that I have conjured in my mind. 

The vision is from a long, long time ago. I am trying to remember it now. I was there and you were too. Here’s what I see.  

I see a small stable. 

Inside is a destitute family. The mother is worn from a long journey and bent over by the baby growing inside her. Her faithful husband, with hands that are hard and calloused and dirty, tries to soften the space for her. He acts as the pillar of strength in a dark, dark stable. 

It is hard to see. Light flickers from a few torches and candles. The penetrating darkness is so foreign to you and me; we live in a world of almost constant light. I try to make out what’s happening but my eyes struggle in the dark. 

The smell is not foul, but earthy from new hay and animals. The smell might be off for you and me, but it is the most common thing in the world to this family. 

You know the figures and their names. Mary and Joseph. There are others present – we do not know the names of those who attend to Mary, but they are good women. 

The stillness and quiet of the night are something we are strangers to, with our constant noise and commotion. But the stable it is so still, except for the small movements and noises of the animals who share this space. 

The baby is born. The sound of the first cry cuts through the night. If you’ve held a newborn in your arms, you know the sound – it is so desperate but so beautiful too. Life begins. 

Like all births it is messy. It is difficult. The pain borne by Mary as she delivers the yet unnamed baby, with no antiseptic, no pain killers, no epidermal, not even an aspirin – well, it’s as nature intended. But it is not pretty.

I can’t see the delivery, that’s private. Even Joseph has left. Not because he doesn’t love Mary, but because he is no help here. The women have taken over. Space is at a premium. But the women - they have all the experience and are there for the young Mary and her firstborn son. 

She holds the baby. He is simply perfect. The pain and suffering she has endured make way for the relief of holding his healthy, little self. He is cleaned and presented in cloth given by the women to keep him warm. 

She thinks, “He is Perfect!” She counts ten fingers and toes. She kisses his small tufted dark hair. She feels his warmth. 

He cries from the shock of it all. He has just come from a safe, warm, and comfortable place – fed and nourished by His Mother for the last nine months. The world he enters is dark. It is cold. It is hard. 

You and I know him as our Savior. He is here to bring light in the darkness, warmth to the cold heart, sanctuary to the hardship of life. His mission, which he will fulfill, is to bring hope to all.

But for now, he is just a baby without a name. Like so many babies before and after him. Just a baby. 

To his mother, he is her everything. She nestles him close to her, partly for warmth and comfort, mostly because she loves him with all her heart. She knows who he is and why he is here. She remembers what she’s been told. She has pondered the experiences she’s had, and she knows He is special. But tonight, he is hers. And she is in love.

The baby cries and coos and wriggles. She speaks softly to him. “My baby boy. My little baby boy. I love you, my boy. You are perfect to me. Can you hear me? Do you know me? I am your mother and you, my son.” The voice is familiar to him. He’s heard it these last months. It sounds different yet comforting. He sleeps.

That’s the vision I have tried to see this Christmas.

I love Christmas. The beauty of this season has so many layers. So many grand designs. Angels and stars, heavenly hosts and prophesies fulfilled. It is truly the most wonderful time of the year.  

But the means and manner of His birth are in themselves witnesses of God’s hand. God is sometimes hard to understand. His Son born in these most humble of conditions. It doesn’t make sense. Folks of lesser title and importance have had it much, much better. 

Yet, if you know God’s methods this is precisely the way he works. By small and simple things are great things brought to pass. It is his calling card if you will. And few have had a start as small and simple as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. 

Today is December 26. I hope you have all had a very Merry Christmas. 

But starting today things will change. The holiday lights will start to be turned off. The music will change. The jolliness of the season will diminish. 

Yet, the hope of this first night – the night when the journey of the Atonement began – can remain with us if we let it. In fact, nothing is more important. 

This is the invitation to push aside the fatigue, frustration, and cynicism that wreak havoc that surround our lives. Make room in your life, your heart, and your mind for Christ. He is the hope of all nations, born for us. 

I love Jesus and hope you find him more in your life in the days and years to come.