A Mixed-up Christmas

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Every once in a while, Christmas seems a little mixed up. A couple years ago, some of our family came days before the 25^th, opened gifts well before Christmas Eve, and said good-bye before the countdown closed shop doors at the mall. We had to use our daytimers to keep our comings and goings straight, complete with flight numbers, train schedules, and baby routines.

But we came. We came to be together, mixed-up notwithstanding.

The first Christmas was a little mixed-up, too. It all started with an angel, a misunderstanding smoothed over by a dream, and a compulsory road trip. Perhaps Joseph tried to remember the mid-wife’s instructions as he half-carried Mary into an innkeeper’s barn ninety long miles from home. It seemed an invisible hand guided them to this unlikely place. What thoughts raced through Joseph’s mind as he tried to comfort and care for Mary? He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t—let anything happen to her. Did his hands tremble when the time came to deliver her baby boy?
 

Angel wings from the throne room of heaven brushed against an earthy night sky. These eager celestials lit up the hillside as they sang to startled sheep and shepherds . . . shepherds who, in turn, traipsed into town peering into every barn they passed—searching for a very special baby! The eastern horizon saw camels carry gift-laden kings west.

Far away, a lone star slipped out of orbit to chase a child.

Nothing happened the way Joseph and Mary thought it would. An impromptu wedding instead of a traditional ceremony. Bethlehem instead of Nazareth. A cold stable instead of a warm home. Strangers, in the form of shepherds and wise men, instead of family and friends. An undercover detour to Egypt instead of a celebratory homecoming. God ordained this mixed-up plan. Heaven came to Earth, and Earth has never been the same.

Immanuel came. He came to be with us, mixed-up notwithstanding.

The ultimate mix-up took place thirty-three years later when the perfect Son of God . . . died . . . instead of us. His resurrection makes it possible for mortals to live . . . forever . . . with Him.

We made the best of our mixed–up Christmas that year. But the ultimate mix-up is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. “Thanks be unto God for His indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us,

so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

2 Corinthians 5:21

 

First published in www.christiandevotions.us, December 26, 2013.

Starlit

I 
Wise men, yet seeking,

Traverse a path

Lit by a single star,

Dim and obscure in the murky dusk.

Making their way, slow and unsure,

Their wondering eyes

Behold the brightening star

As the darkness deepens.

They can only follow.

Their quest? A child, a king.

Each footfall brings them closer.

Could it be,

This is the very pathway to God.?

Yet the starlight fades 

Bringing confusion, uncertainty,

Making the way unclear.

Where is He?

As last the question gives way to destiny.

A word, given long before by God Himself,

Brings joy.

The road, once again,

Starlit.

II

My heart, seeking still

Oftentimes travels a dusky passage,

Dim and obscure.

And though I, too, pursue the Son of God,

The way seems shrouded in gloomy shadows.

Where is He?

Just as the regal seekers of old,

I find God's very words

A lamp.

A lamp that makes my way sure.

For as my darkness deepens,

My eyes became attracted

To His light.

I can only follow.

III

Today, I join them,

These that are called wise.

Together, we journey, coming ever closer.

Together, we eagerly await the moment of worship.

Together, we ponder God's Divine Mystery.

Together, we walk this path.

Starlit.

White Lights on a Thorn Bush

I

Africa's darkness

Pushed aside

As foreign hands

Take a simple manger

From hut to hut.

Passing seasons bring 

Transformed drumbeats

And fearless smiles of freedom

As Emmanuel Himself

Shines in forgiven hearts.

II

Little children's memories reach

Past empty stockings and their mother's quiet tears

Across the ocean

To scenes of family gatherings and roast beef dinners

Where snowflakes and tinsel dance and sparkle.

And in the African night

Their foreign voices sing

The old familiar carols

With a string of white lights on a thorn bush

To celebrate the arrival of the Light of the World.

 

This poem is dedicated to my sister and her family who went to Tanzania, East Africa to share the gospel with the Datoog people in June 1997. That first December 25th, they took a small nativity of Christ from hut to hut and read the Christmas narrative prepared with their language helper. For the first time, this village heard the story of Jesus. Over the years, a church and school were established.

I also want to dedicate these words to missionaries all over the world who feel a little homesick over the holidays. May God give you His grace as you faithfully serve the "Light of the World."