Lavender & Lace

I was speaking with a friend of mine the other night about Christmas (shout out to my brother, Cornbread!) and it got me thinking about this commercialized, tinsel, holiday. Why do we celebrate it as followers of Christ and why does it matter so much?

A lot of people probably don’t know this about me, but I was raised in the Lutheran church. I grew up my whole life hearing the Bible stories and singing the hymns, but it wasn’t until I was in college that my faith really came alive. I attended my first non-denominational church with my roommate and for the first time heard the Christmas story in a way I’d never heard it before.

We studied Cesar, and Herod, and Revelation (I know…the big scary book of Revelation on Christmas!) and my “traditional”—heard the same sermon every Sunday—Protestant, brain imploded. Because I was so used to hearing the Hallmark version of a silent night, with a pretty, clean, barn, where the animals stood around quietly and didn’t do what animals do in stalls…while some nicely dressed folks show up unannounced, and nobody’s stressed, or alarmed, it’s all just “Joy to the World”.

It’s so ridiculous that this is what we celebrate.

Because when you take this story out of the children’s book and place it within the cultural context of a nation who never really escaped captivity, who were desperately waiting and praying for a promised redeemer to come and free them for good…I honestly didn’t feel like the story was very “real”. And maybe you don’t either.

Historians now believe that Mary was between the ages of 13/14. Which was the age when most girls were married back then. She wasn’t just some meek and mild young woman, she was a child with a whole truckload of faith and courage. Because betrothal in 1st century Judaism was a year long, during which time the “soon to be husband” would build an addition onto his parent’s home in preparation for his own family. The couple would be considered married in every respect by the community, excluding physical union, and if during this year one of them was found to be unfaithful it was to be considered as heinous as adultery. So when the text says that Mary and Joseph were engaged and Mary was found to be pregnant, this was a big deal.

Joseph had every right to stone her publicly for cheating. But because he was a good man he chose to divorce her quietly…which would have still left her open to public scandal and ridicule.

So much of this scandal followed them, that even when they traveled back to Joseph’s hometown of Bethlehem, a place where all his family originated, there wasn’t a single relative who opened their home to them. Just think about that. In a culture that revolved around hospitality, there wasn’t a single person who could give a young girl a room to deliver her child in?

And even Jesus had to deal with this residual scandal all throughout his ministry. He was often called the Son of Mary, which was a huge insult in a culture where you were known by the name of your father. And people would constantly mock him asking, who is your father?

So why would God choose to come to earth like this?

Why didn’t he choose to be born into royalty? With prestige and wealth? With power and authority? Why didn’t he just appear as a full grown man, using his might and power to knock down Rome and free Israel from tyranny?

Because this was the Messiah Israel expected! This was the Messiah the prophets foretold! And even to this day, if you ask any God fearing Jewish person why they still don’t acknowledge Jesus as the one foretold, they will tell you that he didn’t come the way Messiah was supposed to.

He was born in someone’s backyard. To two teenage kids who were ostracized by their communities. The announcement didn’t go out to the religious elite pouring over Torah, but to the lowliest of people; shepherds.

Jesus shows up announcing a new kingdom, a new idea of power, a new way of living…

Why?

What kind of picture does this paint of God?

I consider myself very lucky to have been born with the faith that I have. I don’t understand why and it doesn’t make sense that no one ever had to convince me that God was real or hold my hand and make Jesus make sense. Even at three (?) years old, my parents had to hold me back, inconsolable, as I reached out my tiny little hands pointing at a poor Indian couple dressed in their traditional garb, just trying to have a nice meal, while I yelled at the top of my tiny lungs; “It’s Mary and Bofist!!!!”

The Christmas story has always been magical to me. But now that I understand it, it feels real.

Life changing, real.

Because if you’re going to confess that the virgin birth was real, that two nobodies from nowhere Israel raised a boy who everyone anticipated but no one recognized…I mean, it’s ludicrous that we believe this stuff. Or is staggeringly true. And you have to decide.

When Jesus stepped onto the scene, he not only declared war on the powers and principalities of evil that rule our world (which would be an interesting topic to explore another time) but there was already a Lord, there was already a Savior, there was already a Son of God…but his name was Caesar. Advent wasn’t originally a celebration as Jesus birthday, it was for Caesars birthday. Peace on Earth was already announced because of Caesar. And when the angels came and saying: “Do not be afraid! For behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: Today in the City of David a Savior has been born to you. He is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11) Those were words the Romas already spoke of Caesar.

And there are people who just want to scoff and say, well that’s just early Christian appropriation, and it may be that, but I personally believe it was intentional. Because I believe it is possible that God is smart enough to set up two ways, two kingdoms, two definitions of peace, two definitions of power…and ask us to choose. Far too often, we think we can have our cake and eat it too, when God actually cares about where we side and who we give our allegiance too.

It’s not just a buffet.

Remember that Jesus never forced anyone to follow him. He always offered himself, in love, but never in coercion.

And this is why the Christmas story is so important. Because it sets the scene for defining who God is. His mission for humanity, his heart for a people who couldn’t save themselves. He humbled himself to take on human form, to be born into poverty, to seek and save the lost, to reach the lowest, most discarded, those cast aside by society, ostracized by their communities, untouchable, unloveable…people like you and I. So that no one will ever be able to stand in front of him and say; “you don’t understand”.

And can I just say that I think Mary was a rockstar. Protestants don’t like to talk about Mary much, but the truth is, the fact that she was just like any other little girl means so much to me.

I can’t help but wonder what Mary must have felt that night, holding him in her arms. Knowing that women in Israel had been praying for centuries to be chosen to bear the Messiah, and that at the very moment of his birth the temples were full of prayers for his arrival. What it must have felt like to look into the eyes of God and feel him looking back.

I can’t imagine what it must have been like to teach him to talk or walk or to keep him safe…knowing that despite every unkind whisper and every judgmental look, this child that she carried would save the world.

Because ultimately where does Mary’s story end?

It ends with her standing at the foot of the cross watching her child, the child she grew inside her and bore into the world, be mocked, spit at, beaten and ultimately killed.

“A sword will pierce your heart” (Luke 2:35)

This is all a part of the Christmas story.

That before the creation of the earth. Before the fall of Adam and Eve. Before you and I were even a thought. Jesus died.

And I honor his birth because I proclaim the existence of the man who choose to live so that he could die in my place, that I might live forever with him in paradise.

This is why this story matters.

It’s not about the date. It’s not about the symbolism. The gifts, carols, or candles. It’s about the fact that we worship a God who came to die for us.

And overcame death itself and is alive today in each of us who bear his name.

So yes, it’s insanity to believe this…or it’s the truest thing ever.

You have to choose.

And what you do with that choice will ultimately determine the rest of your life.

Good night my friends, Merry Christmas.