As I glance at the nativity scene, everything looks so perfect. Perfectly measured corners in the stable. Animals silently placed with care facing the newborn King. Mary sweetly glancing down at her babe. Joseph caught in the wonder of the moment equidistant from Mary and the manger. An angel motionless and with an . . . well angelic . . . smile upon its face. Shepherds mute and spaced evenly to fill the piano’s surface area. You can almost hear “Hark the Herald Angels” surrounding the figurines. My historical attention to detail will never let me place the wisemen in the creche. They remain off to the “East” of the entire scene, since they didn’t arrive to visit the Christchild until he was nearly two.
I can’t imagine that the real scene of the birth we celebrate each Christmas looked much like the artificial one in my living room. Wet hay stacked against the wall permeates the air. Livestock wander freely throughout their home, now invaded by humans.
Mud, manure, sweat, tears, screams, and blood.
A child raises its voice in the night air, a mother heaves with exhaustion from a non-medicated, non-sterile labor. A confused father attempts to comfort his wife, whose child’s conception was befuddling at best. And the mother? She herself is a child, more than likely a mere middle schooler in our understanding of the world. Terrified shepherds on a regular night of work, scattered by terrifying light and celestial beings beyond comprehension. Magi in the east chart stars and marvel at the site outside their window. Questioning what it all means, they will soon begin a caravan of a lifetime.
Somehow the nativity we’ve assembled saps the power and reality of this most important millennia old miracle. Our tidy portrayal creates the illusion of a birth with no dirt, no sound, no inner chaos, no foul smells. Instead, a perfectly turned display, with painted silent faces proclaims the good news for all people of all generations. But that perfect portrayal wasn’t God’s plan.
God’s plan was to enter humanity in the midst of imperfection. Jesus arrived through imperfect parents – Mary and Joseph. In an imperfect place – a temporary home where animals dwelt. The good news first proclaimed to those whom society had deemed the imperfect and outcast, shepherds – of all people. Jesus’ nascent wasn’t a silent night, but filled with the sounds of childbirth, childbirth from a terrified child.
While pondering such things strips the sweet and tender notions of the Christmas story from our hearts and minds, in all actuality this is very good news for both you and me. God doesn’t require us to become perfect before He makes His dwelling among us. Perhaps that is the greatest Christmas miracle of all, for both you and me.
We needn’t tidy up our “well-lived in” homes. His first home was a barn. We needn’t hush our loud tones. His birth was greeted by a brigade of heavenly warriors. We needn’t become more mature. His parents were children. We needn’t make ourselves suitable in the eyes of the world. His first visitors lived on the fringe of respectability. All of the reality of our biology and the cacophony human emotion is welcomed. The chaos of being is embraced. It’s more than ok to imperfect when you come face to face with a Savior. He wouldn’t expect anything less.
When debts are paid without any action from us, we’re set off kilter. We want to contribute our fair share. We want to pay back what we owe. We simply can’t understand why anyone would do that. Freedom like that is confusing. I like ledgers. Plusses and minuses march together in harmony. Bottom lines hang together in alignment. Grace doesn’t add up. You don’t owe anything. You didn’t earn anything. You didn’t do anything.
Yet, Jesus stepped down from the perfection of Heaven and began an eternal Rube Goldberg debt repayment plan at that first imperfect Christmas. An “imperfect” birth that would lead to a perfect death and resurrection. A payment on a debt that wasn’t His own, collected in full, allowing a confusing freedom story for you and me.
This Christmas, more than anything I would love for you to find True Freedom in the grace that Jesus provides.
Saving money is fun. Paying off debt is rewarding. The good news of Jesus is the best “discount” any of us can ever receive. Something from nothing. Life instead of death.
May you embrace your imperfections with Christ’s entrance into your own life, each month, each week, each day, each hour, each minute, each second.
Merry Christmas and thank you for sharing our journey.
Cherie
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14 NIV
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[…] already established that there’s no such thing as a perfect Christmas in our house twice). but they are baked with love and that’s all that counts. Besides, those that get a little […]