Christmas morning, December 25, 2024

The whole entrance was wrong.

Nine months pregnant and riding on a donkey for days, ask any woman who has given birth what that experience must have been like. No admission into a private room in a hospital but only the pathetic rejection by an innkeeper who only slightly opens the door to announce, “no room”. No attending physician to help with the delivery only a group of farm animals who are probably annoyed to be sharing their sleeping space. The only support is from a scared teenage boy who at times must wonder how he got himself into this situation, never having participated in the conception. No new outfit for the newborn to wear but simply wrapped in swaddling cloths. Swaddling cloths comes from chatal which is the Hebrew word for a bandage. Remember after an infant is born the umbilical cord has to be cut and tied, in this case by the young teenage parents. And no new bassinette to lay your baby in only a manger, literally a feeding trough where those noisy animals had eaten their last meal. I’m sure this teenage mother thought it was a better idea than laying her baby down on the straw floor.

This is how the hope of Israel, God’s plan of salvation for the world, the Messiah, the Chosen One, Yahweh in the flesh would arrive? Surely after this dismal entrance he would distinguish himself as a true leader later in life to the satisfaction of those who needed such verification.

Not so.

He travelled with no entourage or posse, only a makeshift assembly of mostly smelly fisherman. He hung out with prostitutes, surely not good for a leader’s reputation. Against sound advice, he touched lepers, putting his health at risk. He was completely politically incorrect, challenging the hierarchy of the day. He had no bodyguard, but slept in the desert, often alone. He wore no gold crown, only one made of thorns. And he had no royal funeral procession, but at death, had his body wrapped in cloths, the same way he was found in the manger.

Surely, we must have missed something.

Wasn’t there a memo or proclamation announcing his arrival? Where were the fireworks and the grand parade? Wasn’t this a black-tie event? Leaders are supposed to have the big corner office and the best parking spot. Wasn’t he supposed to sign his signature with a bunch of titles after it?

The innkeeper missed the opportunity, the political leaders missed their opportunity, and even those closest to him with egos too big to submit to authority missed the opportunity.

If you are reading this blog, I bet you are alone. Often times it is in the quiet that we can hear the best.

I believe that someday we will all hear God’s voice. Some will hear his voice for the very first time. It’s not that he never spoke,
it’s just that they never listened.

Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places.

“I am at the door of your heart. knocking. Open it and let me in”.

Don’t miss your opportunity.

Let this be your Merry Christmas.