Anticipating Christmas

Hi Friends, 

Here are some thoughts as we approach Christmas 2021 . . .

            The winter rain pounded on the SUV’s windows, adding to the cacophony of shouts and grunts, squeals and squirming-in-seats from six already-unhappy kids.  I took a deep breath and hollered over the chaos.  “Hey, let’s sing some Christmas carols!”

            “What?” 

            “Nooooo!”  

            “Jingle bells. Batman smells!”

            “That’s not a real song.”

            “Is too.”

            “Jayden sings too loud.”

            “I have a headache.”

            Me too.

            This time I blew out a long breath from the front seat and spoke more quietly.  “How about we play a game?  Who knows a Christmas game?”

            “I hate games.”

            “Bethany always wins anyway ‘cause she’s the oldest.”

            Jayden started in with “Batman smells” again at the top of his voice, then promptly stopped and shouted, “Jayna hit me!”  Then, he began to howl.  A moment later, Jayna was howling too.

            Another shrill voice piped from the back of the car.  “I’m thirsty.”

            And then another.  “My feet hurt.”

            “My arms hurt.”

            “I don’t feel so good.”

            A fishy cracker flew from the backseat and impacted the front windshield.

            I turned around.  “No throwing crackers.  Give me those.”

            Jordyn gave a snuffly cry as she handed me the container.

            Another voice rose over the others.  “Are we there yet?  How much longer?”

            I stared over at my husband, Bryan.  “What were we thinking?”  Why didn’t we just stay home where everything was comfortable, everyone had what they needed, and I could send them to the basement if they bickered and complained?

            Bryan shrugged.  “It’s going to be a long four hours.”

            I groaned.  Four hours to our relative’s house for a pre-Christmas visit.  Four hours of aching feet, thirsty bodies, and bumpy roads? 

            Four hours would seem like four days.

            The number wiggled into my soul.  Four days. I remembered another family, a man and a very pregnant wife, taking an unwanted pre-Christmas journey with no SUV, no Christmas carols, no fishy crackers, no comfortable seats to squirm in.  Four days.  That’s how long it would take to walk quickly from Nazareth to Bethlehem, if they went through Samaria.  But Mary and Joseph would have never made it in just four days.  It probably took more like a week if they took the longer route to avoid the dangerous Samaritan road and went slowly for Mary.

            I sat back in my seat and thought about an almost-one-hundred mile journey, pregnant, on a donkey, or on foot (the Bible doesn’t say). I thought about the dust, the stones, the pressure of a babe kicking against a womb too tight for such travels.  That couldn’t have been an easy journey.

            The Bible doesn’t tell us much about it.  Luke 2:5 says, “He [Joseph] went there [to Bethlehem] to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.”  That’s it.  Mary went.  One step at a time. Forward, on an awkward, unwanted journey, for a reason she most likely didn’t understand. She just had to waddle forward, in faith, even when the road was bumpy and her feet hurt and she was thirsty and tired and it seemed like she’d never get where she needed to go.

            That’s a kind of journey that I could understand, not just from our pre-Christmas jaunt to a relative’s house, but from life.  Sometimes we have to travel a road we don’t want to go on to arrive in the place where God wants us to be.

            At the end of Mary’s journey, she would encounter Christ in a way she hadn’t before. The Messiah would be born!  She would hold God incarnate in her arms.  At the end of our family’s unpleasant journey, we would arrive at our destination and enjoy the company of people we love. We would play and laugh and encounter joy in a new way.  We’d even sing a few Christmas carols.

So, as I recall my journey, and Mary’s, I see that even through hurt and discomfort, maybe especially in hurt and pain, God is leading to a place where Jesus can be born in our lives in new ways, where we can see his face more clearly, hear his voice, and glimpse his glory anew.

The difficult pre-Christmas journey isn’t punishment; it’s God’s narrow road for us. It’s the way to his will. 

            That’s what I learn when I anticipate the coming of Christmas.  I learn to walk,  to stumble, to run ... and to remember: The journey matters.  God is in it.  He is in us!