The Christmas season is not an immunity that protects us from the difficulties of life. Actually, for many of us, the season seems astute at recalling memories infused with the pain and confusion, the emptiness, of loss, of relationships that lay barren, of trauma, intentionally or unintentionally inflicted on us. And then there is the year we are presently walking through. The health diagnosis we never imagined just months ago. Myriads of possible other challenges replete with adjustments, and an immersion in new things to learn and understand. The vibrant parent or child or spouse, or friend, whose life has closed out the earthly journey. Job changes. Children choosing to defy or even just moving away. Or, simply the busyness of making lists, checking them umpteen times, decorating, shopping, wrapping, mailing, partying, and still something gets forgotten in the haze.
And yet, and I realize you already know this, but the things that frazzle us, the things that overwhelm our emotions, the questions that still persist through the Christmas season, those things have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the heart of Christmas. Literally, “Christmas” means Christ’s mass. And I will acknowledge that the celebration of Christ on December 25th is nowhere even suggested in Scripture. To celebrate though is to acknowledge, to honor, to bring to the center of attention in positive, joyous ways, to praise, to indulge in festivities, practices and traditions that express our feelings for the event or person being celebrated. Now, although the setting aside of December 25th was originated by man to celebrate Christ, to “celebrate Christ” is uplifted in Scripture over and over again. We celebrate as Mary and Joseph did, as the shepherds and the wise men did, as Simeon and Anna did. Countless others through the Gospel narratives celebrated Him as they announced Him, spoke of Him, thanked Him, learned from Him, compelled others to listen, gathered in large crowds around Him, wept at His cross, worshiped Him, and stood in awe at His ascension. Paul’s writings reflect the call to celebrate the One who was birthed in lowliness, setting aside His divine privileges, maturing and ministering, and eventually dying a criminal’s death – a death that allows me to celebrate Him because it was His death that gave me a place of righteousness in intimate relationship with Him and with His Father and His Spirit. Paul calls every believer to celebrate the Christ with our lives, from thoughts and motives, to godly choices and loving relationships. Christmas. The reminder we all need to let our celebration acknowledge the Christ – the Baby, the Man, the God above all gods -- honor Him, bring Him to the center of attention, praise Him, let our practices and traditions express our celebration of Him, every day, all year long.
And when the haze descends – the busyness of a season, the memories of yesterday or the challenges of today – quiet your heart and go and stand, or kneel, or even just sit, before the manger. The scene from Bethlehem sits on my dining room table – smelly animals, a weary new mother, a husband who is still trying to figure it all out, divinity represented by the angels, and mankind seen in the shepherds, lowly spectators, but chosen by the Baby’s Father – and the Baby. The Baby. The heart of Christmas. Cradled by a feeding trough. Worthy to celebrate. Big enough to dispel the haze, and yet small enough to live in my heart, because some day, the Baby would stretch out His arms on a cross to die for me – and for you.
(Related Bible reading: Philippians 2:6-11)
And yet, and I realize you already know this, but the things that frazzle us, the things that overwhelm our emotions, the questions that still persist through the Christmas season, those things have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the heart of Christmas. Literally, “Christmas” means Christ’s mass. And I will acknowledge that the celebration of Christ on December 25th is nowhere even suggested in Scripture. To celebrate though is to acknowledge, to honor, to bring to the center of attention in positive, joyous ways, to praise, to indulge in festivities, practices and traditions that express our feelings for the event or person being celebrated. Now, although the setting aside of December 25th was originated by man to celebrate Christ, to “celebrate Christ” is uplifted in Scripture over and over again. We celebrate as Mary and Joseph did, as the shepherds and the wise men did, as Simeon and Anna did. Countless others through the Gospel narratives celebrated Him as they announced Him, spoke of Him, thanked Him, learned from Him, compelled others to listen, gathered in large crowds around Him, wept at His cross, worshiped Him, and stood in awe at His ascension. Paul’s writings reflect the call to celebrate the One who was birthed in lowliness, setting aside His divine privileges, maturing and ministering, and eventually dying a criminal’s death – a death that allows me to celebrate Him because it was His death that gave me a place of righteousness in intimate relationship with Him and with His Father and His Spirit. Paul calls every believer to celebrate the Christ with our lives, from thoughts and motives, to godly choices and loving relationships. Christmas. The reminder we all need to let our celebration acknowledge the Christ – the Baby, the Man, the God above all gods -- honor Him, bring Him to the center of attention, praise Him, let our practices and traditions express our celebration of Him, every day, all year long.
And when the haze descends – the busyness of a season, the memories of yesterday or the challenges of today – quiet your heart and go and stand, or kneel, or even just sit, before the manger. The scene from Bethlehem sits on my dining room table – smelly animals, a weary new mother, a husband who is still trying to figure it all out, divinity represented by the angels, and mankind seen in the shepherds, lowly spectators, but chosen by the Baby’s Father – and the Baby. The Baby. The heart of Christmas. Cradled by a feeding trough. Worthy to celebrate. Big enough to dispel the haze, and yet small enough to live in my heart, because some day, the Baby would stretch out His arms on a cross to die for me – and for you.
(Related Bible reading: Philippians 2:6-11)
