by Katherine Britton
"In that day you will say: ‘Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world.'" - Isaiah 12:4-5
My felt Advent tree gains one velcro ornament each day until Christmas. I love this calendar, because each unique ornament tells a little bit more about the story of redemption from Genesis onward. A grey felt heart stands for the Fall into sin. A beaded crown reminds of the Prince of Peace and Wonderful Counselor foretold in Isaiah. A fuzzy lamb represents John the Baptist's announcement of Christ's purpose.
The calendar is paired with devotional readings for children, which have surprised me in their simplicity and breadth. Like the ornaments, these readings tell a continuing story, in which Christ's life is not the beginning or the end, but the event that makes sense out of both. With this bigger context, an otherwise chaotic history becomes simple enough that a child can understand.
How often do we take time to contemplate the magnitude of this story, which began in the Garden of Eden and won't finish until Christ's second coming?
I think my Christmas cheer is too often confined to the stable. To use a loose analogy, I'm a bit like the dwarves in C. S. Lewis's "The Last Battle," who convince themselves that their dingy stable-prison could not possibly hold the miracle of a whole new Narnia. And so, the dwarves get left behind in their imaginary confinement with nothing to celebrate when everyone else begins to explore the beautiful new world. Like the dwarves, I can put my little Christmas story in a little room, and forget to see the whole miracle of redemption.
Sunday's sermon about Herod's massacre in Bethlehem reminded me why the grander picture is so vital. You'll remember the story - only a short while after the angels announced "peace on earth," Herod's blazing temper led to the mass murder of baby boys in Bethlehem. The arbitrary deaths of these little ones seems so disconnected from what we celebrate, so outside the realm of God's grace. That event - like so many other injustices - seems to overwhelm the baby sleeping peacefully.
We can compartmentalize Christmas so it remains untainted by such events, can't we? But that's just it - as the grey heart on my felt Advent tree me, Christmas has to begin with an understanding of sin. We have to see the world's desperate need for grace before we understand why a baby requires such a hullaballoo, and we have to look back at God's plan to see how a baby can redeem even those situations. Therein lies the astonishing glory of what happened at Christmas, and the beauty of what we proclaim to the world.
As the days go by and my calendar grows fuller with symbolic ornaments, I get more and more excited about Christmas Day. Into this world with so much baggage came a child who remained in it and not of it, who knew what we are and loved us anyway. By God's grace, my understanding of Christmas keeps getting bigger - and with it, my reasons to "let [it] be known to the all the world" what he has done, is doing, and will continue to do!
Intersection of Faith and Life: Christ's incarnate birth makes little sense if we forget why he had to come and what he came to do. As you focus on the manger scene with your family, encourage each other with the bigger story of Genesis to the end of time, knowing that this little baby redeemed every moment in time. May your Christmas be big as your consider the grandeur of redemptive history on both sides of the manger!
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Why a Manger?
by Skip Heitzig
A few years ago my Mom gave me the Nativity scene that was in our house when I was a kid. It evoked wonder in my early years, and it's still wonderful, but there's something not quite right about it. For one thing, the figure of Jesus looks more like a two-year-old than an infant. For another, He has blond hair and blue eyes—and from what I know of the Middle East, I have kind of a problem with that. Obviously, this Nativity set was crafted by a European!
And the manger is made out of wood. Of course, that's how most of us think of it. But the word in the Bible translated "manger" could mean either a feeding trough or an enclosure for animals. In that part of the world animals were kept in caves, and feeding troughs were made out of stone, so Jesus was probably born in a cave around Bethlehem somewhere, and laid in a stone trough.
Now, I know I've probably destroyed a lot of your mental pictures of Jesus' birth. But the important question is "Why a manger?" Why wasn't He born in a palace, and His birth heralded in the Jerusalem Post?
The answer is in two words, humility and accessibility. His mother wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, like any peasant of the time. This great gift came in simple wrapping. The one who would be called "Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father" (Isaiah 9:6)—the Creator—became an embryo, and then a baby. It's amazing, and the more you think about it, the more staggering it becomes. This humility would depict His entire life and ministry. And when He died He was buried in a borrowed grave, another cave similar to the one He was born in.
Because He was humble, He was accessible. Going into a throne room to see a king would be intimidating, but there's nothing intimidating about going into a cave and approaching a feeding trough. You don't need special credentials, you don't need to have to have an appointment. The shepherds could just come in.
And again, this marked not only His birth but His entire life. Jesus was always accessible to people. He said, "Let the little children come to Me" (Matthew 19:14). He also welcomed the woman with the incurable disease because of her faith (Luke 8:43-48).
So it's not really important what your Nativity scene looks like. The important thing is what you think about the Child who was laid in that manger. In the words of an old Christmas carol, "Infant holy, infant lowly, for his bed a cattle stall; oxen lowing, little knowing, Christ the babe is Lord of all."
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