As I sit here in the glow of my Christmas tree, soaking up
the scent of my holiday candle, I see the packages under the tree that my
parents sent from Kansas. There are a
couple of open boxes in the corner that haven’t been mailed. An unfinished Christmas project has overtaken
the coffee table, which also holds a box of cards that won’t get sent. I’m so bad at Christmas.
Ya know, I’m just not really what you would call a “Christmas
person.” I know, I know. How can I love Jesus, be in church work, and NOT be excited about
His birth?! Well, perhaps the Grinch and
myself have something in common, but I think it has more to do with the crazy
of the season and my tendency for ridiculous expectations.
I love giving thoughtful gifts. I secretly dream of getting THE PERFECT THING
that each person on my list has always secretly hoped and dreamed to receive. If I fall short, I’m disappointed. I get bummed when I don’t hear from loved
ones I’m thinking of during this season.
It’s hard to spend the days leading up to Christmas, knowing that the
Schwalm girls are filling the kitchen with goodies and sneaking gifts under the
tree. I sit and wonder who will wrap my
Dad’s gifts for him and why I didn’t take time to adopt a Christmas angel this
year. I didn’t get to go to the
Holidazzle parade or make it back for my alma mater’s Christmas concert. I miss snow and I can’t make desserts like my
mom. My apartment is empty and my work
load is full. And I can’t help but think
to myself: “This isn’t how I thought it would be.”
I heard someone say once, “This craziness of Christmas is
ridiculous! Do you think the first
Christmas was like that?! No!” I can’t argue about the over-the-top nature
the holiday has taken, but I’m pretty sure Christmas has always been crazy.
God blessed me with new eyes for Jesus’ mother, Mary, this Advent—a
glimpse into her story. Picture
her. Sweet teenage Mary. Engaged to a lovely man. Dreaming of the festivities they would have with
the whole village to celebrate their nuptials.
Enter Gabriel the game changer. Mary
takes her assignment of birthing the Messiah with obedience, grace, and faith
and in a flash, the holy baby bump is the talk of the village. Hurtful words and whispers abound, dreams of
a joyous and honorable wedding are dashed, and her man is having doubts. Thankfully Elizabeth gave her some
encouragement and Joseph jumps aboard after a little visit from the Lord while
he was sleeping. The wedding is still
on, but not the large, honorable festivities, I’m sure. She would never have a wedding like the one
where her Son turned water into wine. They
would always be under scandal. People are
wondering about Joseph, too. Just like
that, this couples’ obedience to God has earned them scarlet letters. And I
have to wonder if at the thought of her crushed bridal dreams, she said, “This isn't how I thought it would be.”
But moving on, there’s a baby on the way. Of course, they didn’t have a baby registry
or a nursery to decorate, but there were still plans to be made. I’m sure Mary had spoken with Nazareth’s
midwife. I'm sure those were interesting conversations. I'm thinking she had delivered enough babies to question the whole virgin birth thing. There are certain to have been
conversations with Mary’s mom about what to expect and tricks to handle the
pain. They probably prepared a place for
the birth and a few items for the baby soon to come. After all, it could be any day now. But wait, word arrives to Nazareth that there
is a census being enforced by the Roman occupation. All must register. No exceptions. (Note God's creative use of political oppression here as a tool to get Mary and Joseph 80 miles down the road to Bethlehem so the prophecy would be fulfilled. Well played.) I can only imagine the tears rolling down
Mary’s face as Joseph broke the news. “I’m sorry, Mary, but we have to go to Bethlehem right
away. It’s a long journey, but we have
no choice.” She rushes to gather a few
things together—a few loaves of bread, a wine skin, and some strips of cloth for
swaddling for the baby’s arrival—while her mother repeats delivery instructions
over and over again to the young, first time parents. Mary wouldn’t have her midwife there, or her
mama, or anyone who had been a parent before.
And as they left Nazareth all their plans for the birth of their child
fading behind them, I’m sure Mary had to have thought at least once, “This isn’t how I thought it would be.”
Yes, I know she was obedient in this calling, but she was still
human. And any human riding nine months
pregnant on a donkey for four days is sure to have some unholy thoughts. As they come into this humble village of Bethlehem,
the place is packed. So packed that they
can’t even get a room to sleep in. The
kind innkeeper offers a livestock cave out back so they can at least get out of
the wind. And Mary goes into labor. In a place with sheep dung all over the
ground, reeking of animals, chilly, and rocky.
I could image her desperation in that moment. “Okay…I didn’t get the wedding, my first
child is shamed, not celebrated by my village, the Romans force us to come to
Bethlehem with a baby bouncing on a donkey ride, and I’ve been a good sport. But…this?!?!
This. Is. Ridiculous!” She has
nothing to welcome her little one with, except for a few strips of cloth she
brought and a new dad to help with the delivery. This was so not how she thought it would be.
Jesus is born and Mary is exhausted. She needs to rest, but can’t put Jesus down
on the sheep poop floor. I have to
believe Joseph improvised with the whole manger idea and was so proud of his
problem-solving dad moment. He knew it
wasn’t what she’d imagined, but the best they could do.
But wait. There’s
more. God is so excited about the
arrival of His Son to earth that He has to tell someone! Why not some shepherds? They’re close and still awake…bring ‘em
over! And poor post-labor Mary welcomes
a bunch of filthy shepherds to the cave, probably accompanied by some sheep, to
see the Christ lying in a feeding trough.
It really had to be nothing like she’d expected. But that was the moment that it all hit her.
It was as if she relived all the moments that led up to that
point, starting from Gabriel’s visit.
The pregnancy scandal, the talking neighbors, the almost divorce, the
census, the journey, the donkey..oh, the donkey, the crowded inn, the sheep
cave, the broken birth plans, and shepherds being the first to visit the
newborn. But she smiled and pondered all
of these moments in her heart because through all of that, a stringing together
of one crazy event after another, the Messiah was born just as she’d been told.
It didn’t get easier from there. They had to flee to Egypt for awhile. Their families wouldn’t have met Jesus until they
returned to Nazareth when he was a young child.
Perhaps she’d thrown her expectations out the window by then.
So I stop and look around at my Christmas crazy. My packages and projects. Or just my regular crazy. My unattained goals and unreached landmarks. Are my expectations getting in the way? Am I willing to give up my dreams and
expectations for what God might have in mind?
Do I trust that when difficult arises that God’s provision and
protection is bigger than my fear and discomfort? Am I taking time to ponder in my heart what
God has done this year to bring me to this point? Am I missing the Savior for being focused on
the manger?
There have been SO many times in my life that I’ve uttered
those words, “this is not what I thought it would be.” But one thing remains true every Christmas
since the first, and it’s true for this one.
Jesus is here. God has kept His
promise and in a way no one expected.
Christmas has always been crazy.
This year is no exception. Take a
cue from Mary. Roll with it. Do some pondering. And join in worshiping with the shepherds.
Sometimes I wonder if she really knew what it all meant. I mean, she knew Jesus was the Messiah, but
what did that mean to her? Did she expect
Him to reign as King of Israel? Lead a
mighty military? Overthrow the Roman
oppressors? Did she really expect him to…be
a carpenter like His dad? Well, both of
His dad’s did like to make things…so I guess it works. Did she expect him to have a posse and travel
around speaking and healing? I don’t
know.
There was a moment where Mary stood next to John, the one
Jesus loved, and looked up at her first born.
A baby once wrapped in cloths was now a beaten, bloody mess hanging with
His hands and feet nailed to a cross. As
His mother stood there in John’s arms, overcome by sadness, I believe she was grieving
dreams of who she thought Jesus would be both as her son and her Messiah. Perhaps saying for a final time, “This…this is
not how I thought it would be.”
But on that Good Friday at the cross and that night in
Bethlehem, heaven replied, “For you, for the world, for hope, life, and
salvation, this is how it had to be
in to accomplish what’s meant to be.”
You having life for hear and eternity is what’s meant to
be. Jesus brought that for you.
Merry Christmas.
