On Christmas you and I will hear a story alleging the Creator and Ruler of the Universe decided to come to earth to become human – a lofty, controversial, and near-preposterous claim, for sure.

Nonetheless, we will notice that God does not do so via the first century equivalents of satellite television, a United Nations news conference, or by rolling out a “Faith and Freedom” cross-country bus tour.  The birthplace is not Rome, New York, Washington, D.C., Paris, or Moscow. The parents are not emperors, presidents, or anywhere near The One Percent.

This story must have pained early Christians, desperate for social acceptability, who were stuck with the tale of an impoverished single mom in a conquered hamlet of some backwater corner of a vast empire, putting her newborn into an animal trough where the fledgling birth announcement was entrusted to village idiots whose only other marketable skills were watching sheep.

Yet, as many scholars note, the sheer embarrassment of this narrative speaks to its verity. So does its theme: the miracle is not that God could become man, but that God could love us so deeply.

This is a God who didn’t come here to impress.

This is a God who doesn’t care about where you live, who your friends are, who your parents are, how much money’s in the bank account, how the house is decorated, or how clean the crib is.

This is a God who doesn’t care what you do, how you dress, or who you know.

This is a God who shows little concern for proving anything other than a desperate love for us – period.

This is what Christmas is about.

So celebrate, we will. Bask in His love, we will. And emulate Him – we will try. For this is the Christmas challenge: can we take that love and share it? Can we follow God’s example and give of ourselves so that others might benefit? Can we too pay less attention to the earthly trappings of the day and focus our eyes on heaven, from where our true love descends?

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Reading

The Pastor – Eugene Peterson

Enough – Roger Thurow

Generation Ex-Christian – Drew Dyck