Month: November 2012

December – the time of the year when our homes are riddled with numerous catalogs and sale flyers touting the best Christmas presents at the best prices!  With numerous young nieces and nephews, our family delves into Christmas gift-giving with great gusto.  Therefore, despite better sense, a few years ago, I found myself in the Target toy section on “Black Friday” at 6:25 a.m.  At that moment, the peace and serenity of the first Christmas was far from my mind.  My focus was elbowing through the hoards of people to get the best deals as I checked more and more names off my list.

After a few days of recovery from my Target experience, I began to reflect on Christmas gift-giving as we know it.  Inevitably, someone in my family will ask me what I want for Christmas, and I have a difficult time thinking of appropriate items for my list.  Too often I find myself not even having adequate space for all the “stuff” that I already have.  What new “stuff” do I want to add to my collection?  In his book Soul Salsa, Christian futurist Leonard Sweet devotes a chapter to the concept of the mezuzah.  In it, he stresses the importance of intersecting the sacred with every aspect of our daily lives.  On the subject of “stuff,” he writes:

“Stories sanctify space.  The more you live in a place, the more your space becomes silted with artifacts.  If those artifacts come without stories or purpose, no matter how beautiful or expensive they may be, you are turning your home into a garbage dump.  Every room in your house tells a life-or-death story.”

During this time of reflection, my mind raced back to an unexpected Christmas gift several years ago.  In the middle of December, I received a phone call from a friend from out of town.  She began to tell me that she and her husband had a Christmas present for us, but they would not be able to get it to us until January.  I was shocked!  We didn’t even exchange presents as a rule.  I was even more surprised when she told me that her husband had made us a grandfather clock.  I instantly knew that a grandfather clock would look grand in the entryway to our home, but in all my Christmases, a grandfather clock had never once appeared on my list.  In the weeks between the knowledge of the clock and its delivery, I thought many times of the time, effort, and care spent in crafting such a gift.  Yet, the more I thought about our coming present, the deeper its meaning became.  In the six years we had known the couple bringing us the clock, they had experienced one heartache and trial after another.  From the death of a 21-year old son to the prodigal ways of their remaining son; from car accidents to heart by-pass surgery; from breast cancer to its return in a mere three years.  Yet, during all of these happenings, we never once heard our friends speak negatively of God.  If anything, they would often proclaim, “God is faithful!”

The more I reflected on my soon coming clock, the more fitting the gift seemed.  I remember praying, “Yes, God, no matter how much time passes, you are faithful.  You are the same yesterday, today, and forever.”  Several weeks passed, and we were able to visit with our friends.  I vividly remember sitting in the living room conversing with the wife as she was recovering from another surgery.  Soon the conversation turned to the clock her husband had made for us.  She looked into my eyes and said, “Mary, do you know what my grandfather clock says to me?  With every chime, it says, God is faithful.”

With tears in my eyes, I nodded, “Yes, I know.”  Now, several years down the road, I am reminded with every sounding of our clock of God’s faithfulness and of the testimony of a family who continued to believe that He was good despite their circumstances.

The story of that Christmas gift sanctifies the space in the entryway of our home.  Upon remembering it, I am forced to ask myself if I give gifts that hold deeper meaning and sanctify space or do I merely find a good deal to fulfill an obligation?  Not many of us have the talent and ability to fashion something as elaborate as a grandfather clock.  Yet, we can pause and consider adding deeper meaning to our gift giving.  This Christmas let us consider what gifts come with stories or purpose to further our friends and loved ones in their relationships with Christ.  The legacy of these gifts will give life for many years to come.

And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. Luke 2.6–7

In the modern era of hotels.com and 1.800 reservation lines, the neon “No Vacancy” signs seem like ancient history to us. It’s a great sign for the merchants. It’s a terrible site to see for weary travelers desperately needing lodging for the night. Imagine the repercussions for Mary and Joseph.

Caesar’s census made everything difficult. 70 miles of road between Nazareth and Bethlehem; 70 miles of horrible anticipation came with every bump, with every cramp. Was this contraction the one? What did Joseph know beyond carpentry? What did Mary know? She was in her mid-teens and this was her first child?

What a strange whirlwind of events had overtaken their 2 young, innocent stories; a wonder, really, of prophecy fulfilled amidst their lives and God’s redeeming work in a desperate world. They’re caught up in a profound mystery, but encounters with their angelic visitors seemed just faint memories of the past. What they would give for shelter and warm fire.

At best, the circumstances were dire. She’s pregnant and at full term with labor pains setting in. He’s holding up the best he can and trying to a be a comfort to her, but a deadline loomed; imposed by the government demanding a census. Joseph just knew that a delivery in the crisp night air on a treacherous road was the nightmare about to come true. They couldn’t arrive at Bethlehem, too soon.

The cities offered minimal rest stops and knowing that Bethlehem was a must, they pressed on; past Sychar, beyond Jericho, through Jerusalem, until, finally, Bethlehem, the city of David, and the place of Joseph’s birth and, for now, the end of a long journey.

At least it seemed it was over, but we know that the story of Jesus birth doesn’t take place in a warm, safe room in the company of caring family and friends. The nativity takes shape in the stable. Such a stark surprise is there for us to ask the question, “Why? Why does the Savior come this way?”

Jesus’ birth comes together on the wisdom and will of a Sovereign God, but it seems that the priorities of people helped color the details.

Consider Joseph and Mary’s need for shelter. I’m sure every door was knocked with urgency. “C’mon! My wife, she’s about to give birth. It’s been a long journey. Please! Can you help us at all?”

Yet every door must have offered the same result. No place. No room. No vacancy.

Every home was full. The hospitality of town residents opening their homes to strangers from out of town with sincere hospitality was consumed by the sheer volume of people returning to Bethlehem. Family reunions filled homes. Welcomed guests found comfortable beds, waiting tables of food and drink, friendly conversation. Mary and Joseph found nothing and no one waiting for them in Bethlehem.

Although they would not have been the only 2 visitors to Bethlehem without a warm bed or ready meal for the night, nevertheless they were WITHOUT – and so was the unborn Jesus. Luke says it with such finality. no place for them in the inn.

Every Christmas nativity play, which mentions an innkeeper, makes the innkeeper a heartless capitalist. He probably has a hooked nose, a craggy voice, and counts his stacks of coins, as though he’s Ebenezer Scrooge. It reminds me of a song from a Christmas pop culture mainstay.

You’re a mean one Mr. Innkeeper. You really are a heel. You’re as cuddly as a cactus and as charming as an eel, Mr. Innkeeper! You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel! You’re a monster, Mr. Innkeeper! Your heart’s an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders. You’ve got garlic in your soul, Mr. Innkeeper! I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!

See, I knew that you’ve heard of this guy! The truth is that this traditional bad-guy innkeeper is more invention than reality. He was probably an invention of tradition that helps us feel better about ourselves. “We’re not heartless, capitalist Innkeepers, like that guy!”

Luke does not mean “inn” in terms of Holiday Inn or Days Inn or Comfort Inn, in other words, some merchant’s place of business for out-of-towners. Luke uses the word for “inn,” which actually means “a guest’s room” and it was used to refer to the upper room of the last Supper in Luke 22.

Houses in Bethlehem and its vicinity often had caves or stables at the back of the house where they kept their working farm animals to protect them from theft. Guest rooms were in the front of the house. Animal shelters were in in the back. And with every other room room filled in Bethlehem, an exhausted and weary Mary and Joseph must settle for the stable.

The dawn of the Savior’s birth found no comfortable place, no welcoming place. But it wasn’t because of a heartless Mr. Gri…, I mean Innkeeper. No one in Bethlehem was prepared for this birth!

Joseph, Mary, and Jesus; their first night together as a family came in a place we can only call an afterthought, the only place left, not because people intentionally wanted to leave them out of their homes, but because their homes were already filled.

Hospitality was abundant in Jerusalem that night, just not for Jesus. Guests found hot meals and warm blankets atop comfortable beds, but Mary wrapped Jesus in swaddling clothes and laid Him in a manger.

One temptation for every preacher is to preach a Christmas message in hopes that you’ll linger at the manger in between all of the shopping and the baking and the eating and the giving. But the lesson of Christmas is a lesson for life. Will there be any room for Jesus in your life?

The psalmist wrote.

Lift up your heads, O gates! And lift them up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in.  Psalms 24.9

The Psalmist rallies us to attention and expectancy with prophetic heralding.

Will He be a priority? Do we look for Him? Will we throw open our lives for the King of glory to come in? With worshipping hearts, will we welcome the wisdom and the work of His unfolding plans into our lives? Will He gain entrance that He might change our lives?

What’s the biggest thing happening in your life today? Does Jesus fit? Is He an expected guest? Does He have a room or is there no place?

Everyone has priorities. We either choose our priorities or let priorities choose us.