In two weeks, I will celebrate my 23rd Christmas. It will be the tenth one since I became a Christian. But I have grown in my understanding of "the reason for the season" perhaps the most in the past three years. Christmas is more than a baby in a manger, and it's certainly more than Christmas shopping. It's about the incarnation: GOD BECOMING FLESH. And not in the way you would think, either. That little baby in the manger, where the pigs and donkeys lived? That was God. The Creator of the Universe did not come in earth shaking rumbles of thunder, flashing lights, loud music, large processions. Instead, he came humbly, to a little town of Bethlehem, barely a dot on the map. And he did not spend his years on earth demanding service, but instead offering of himself to touch all the squalor of this earth, and then dieing to rescue our souls.
In 2009, this story challenged how I lived. "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) This man entered the lives of hundreds of outcasts of all backgrounds, to touch them, to know them. This man met and spoke to a woman of a different culture at a well who had had 5 husbands, and presently was living with a man not her husband, eventually leaving her speechless. Recovering from her shock, she abandoned her water jar and inquired of her town if this could possibly be the One they've all been waiting for--the Messiah?
Jesus did not spend his time pursuing the perfect, contented, comfortable life. He spent his life touching the lives of others in the most unheard of places. He has touched my life in that way, and he continues to do so across the world through his people by His Spirit. That is the motion of his life, which is lived in me. He is writing his story through us. How am I going to let him do that?
In 2010, this story challenged my cynicism. Being the only Christian in my immediate family can make celebrating Christmas difficult for me. I feel alone in the Celebration. I feel pressured to mimic the fake celebration instead of glorying in the True Celebration, leaving me feeling bitter and cynical during a time when I certainly shouldn't be. I realized that Christmas that this story, this incarnation story, isn't about me. It's not about me. It's never been about me. It's about God, from the very first Christmas. "The Christmas season about God's story, and we celebrate that he has chosen to involve us in his story, his beautiful story of redemption. We don't celebrate how perfect he's made our lives (which he hasn't), but that he is faithful and is making all things new." (--me, December 23rd, 2010)
And just today, December 8th, 2011, it challenged how I view the world. I was sitting in my car, finishing my lunch, just staring at the woods and apartment complex in front of me. Random trees, random buildings, out on a country road, where hundreds of college students sleep and eat and work. And then I realized: these trees? These stressed college students? They are the earth and the people that Jesus walked among. Jesus spent quiet times on mountaintops, in gardens, spent quality time with some sinners and tax collectors. Jesus LIVED *here*. We aren't spending our lives toiling on some piece of garbage floating around in space. God came *here.* Deity touched this earth. He found it worthy of his touching, encountering, knowing, loving. So what am I doing, ignoring it, regarding it as nothing to be sneezed at?
What a gift this Christmas season is. Every year, we get to hear the story of the Incarnation and celebrate it. Every year, we get to know this a little better.
In 2009, this story challenged how I lived. "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) This man entered the lives of hundreds of outcasts of all backgrounds, to touch them, to know them. This man met and spoke to a woman of a different culture at a well who had had 5 husbands, and presently was living with a man not her husband, eventually leaving her speechless. Recovering from her shock, she abandoned her water jar and inquired of her town if this could possibly be the One they've all been waiting for--the Messiah?
Jesus did not spend his time pursuing the perfect, contented, comfortable life. He spent his life touching the lives of others in the most unheard of places. He has touched my life in that way, and he continues to do so across the world through his people by His Spirit. That is the motion of his life, which is lived in me. He is writing his story through us. How am I going to let him do that?
In 2010, this story challenged my cynicism. Being the only Christian in my immediate family can make celebrating Christmas difficult for me. I feel alone in the Celebration. I feel pressured to mimic the fake celebration instead of glorying in the True Celebration, leaving me feeling bitter and cynical during a time when I certainly shouldn't be. I realized that Christmas that this story, this incarnation story, isn't about me. It's not about me. It's never been about me. It's about God, from the very first Christmas. "The Christmas season about God's story, and we celebrate that he has chosen to involve us in his story, his beautiful story of redemption. We don't celebrate how perfect he's made our lives (which he hasn't), but that he is faithful and is making all things new." (--me, December 23rd, 2010)
And just today, December 8th, 2011, it challenged how I view the world. I was sitting in my car, finishing my lunch, just staring at the woods and apartment complex in front of me. Random trees, random buildings, out on a country road, where hundreds of college students sleep and eat and work. And then I realized: these trees? These stressed college students? They are the earth and the people that Jesus walked among. Jesus spent quiet times on mountaintops, in gardens, spent quality time with some sinners and tax collectors. Jesus LIVED *here*. We aren't spending our lives toiling on some piece of garbage floating around in space. God came *here.* Deity touched this earth. He found it worthy of his touching, encountering, knowing, loving. So what am I doing, ignoring it, regarding it as nothing to be sneezed at?
What a gift this Christmas season is. Every year, we get to hear the story of the Incarnation and celebrate it. Every year, we get to know this a little better.
