We like things perfect. Christmas brings out the perfectionism in most us, I think. The perfect tree and decorations, just the right gifts with beautiful wrapping, the menu for Christmas dinner. Everything for Christmas should be, well, perfect. Except it isn’t. The government is partially shut down, fighting and ugliness increase exponentially nearly daily, some of the presents Karl ordered for me inexplicably took a wrong turn and probably won’t be on time. Sigh.
Last night we went to a Christmas program put on by the youth of our church (with the help of several others). Christmas programs, especially those involving kids, are one of those rare Christmas traditions for which perfection is not expected and the imperfections are celebrated and endearing. Last night’s program was perfect in its imperfection. A few wrong notes and a few forgotten lines all added to the terrific-ness of the evening. But the message, the true and eternal message, was as perfect as it gets.
As I watched that program, enjoying plays, skits, music, and poetry, it dawned on me that there is absolutely nothing about the birth of Jesus, except Jesus Himself, that is anywhere close to perfect. Joseph and Mary must have been miserable – away from home, no room for them in an actual room, labor pains amidst cow poop and chickens scratching. Tired and hurting, Mary has no other choice than to lay her precious newborn in a feed box so she can rest. All she probably wants is a warm shower and a good night’s sleep. Then, in walks a group of smelly strangers, shepherds. Remember, I spent time around sheep this summer, I know how bad sheep smell…yuck. Add that to the political weather – Israel is under Roman rule. The leaders are corrupt and dangerous. Their world pretty much sucks and there seems little respite coming their way.
Except. The child. Mary looks at His tiny hands and remembers the assurance of the angel’s voice, she listens to the shepherds describe the scene they’ve just witnessed: legions of strong, shiny, heavenly warriors singing praises to God on the prairie as they proclaim the Savior’s birth. I’m thinking they all were able to forget the deficiencies and trials and complications in the face of such wonder and grandeur and yes – perfection.
Merry Christmas to all. May we all see past the struggles, worries, the flopped recipes and crooked bows, the wrong-sized gifts and the idiocy of our politics and focus on the perfection we’ve been given.
