Sure, too many of us get caught up in the stress of presents, meals, latest gadgets, keeping up with the neighbours etc, but I always try to find somewhere quiet and think about what it is exactly that we celebrate.
I think about the amazing way in which God took time to visit us. Not only that, He didn't do it in the expected way ... you know, flashing lights, palace, royal family etc. He came to two unkowns, unnoticed amongst the hustle and bustle of people struggling to find somewhere to stay as they obeyed the decree of the emperor to return to their home town for a census.
And who got the news first? A bunch of renowned cheaters and thieves looking after their sheep ... and a bunch of obscure Eastern mystics who then took nearly 3 years to find the baby (now a boy).
And in the centre of this is a message that none of us is too insignificant to be missed by God, and each has the chance to bring what we have to Him and say 'Thank You!'.
Here are a few thoughts of my own on the first Christmas ... have a peaceful and blessed time this Christmas.
THORNS AND STRAW
A back street stable in a crowded town.
Anguished screams; an occasional moan
Go unheard in the noise of a night
Of hustle and bustle, and rooms packed tight
With people, so busy and unaware
That a virgin's sweat means God is here.
No warm, cosy glow; only candle-lit straw.
A manger and oxen and filth on the floor.
No sweet smelling incense or soft comfy chair,
But cold stone walls; acrid smells in the air;
And the breath of animals to supply the heat,
In this hole in the rock on an unnamed street.
But God's not ignored the place that He's chosen
To visit as a baby, when the night air's frozen.
He treats some shepherds, the lowest of the low,
To front seat tickets at the greatest light show;
And singing and music like they've never heard before,
Which leaves them face down, shaking on the floor.
"Get up! Rejoice! For your king is here!
Run to the town and worship Him there.
Not in the palace so lofty and tall,
But lying in a stable, accessible to all.
So go! Take gifts and sing and feast,
For the mightiest God, has come down for the least."
And in palaces and castles hundreds of miles away,
A country's elite, at the end of the day
Study changes in the stars and heavens which bring
News, that on earth is born a king.
A king so great that creation bows down,
And brings its own offering, unseen in the town.
Their journey is long and filled with pain,
Across scorching deserts and rugged terrain.
As days turn to months and months to years;
Following the bright star whenever it appears.
Then rejoicing and thanks when at last they find
A small boy, just walking; the Lord of mankind.
With regal bows and language unknown,
They offer their gifts to Mary's son.
Gold, incense and myrrh; "What can I believe?"
His mother wonders as the visitors leave
To journey back east, their hearts on fire.
They've seen and worshipped the true Messiah.
And as years roll on by and the crowd's anger grows,
In reaction to this radical who constantly shows
That God has no favourites; our rules don't apply
To the values of heaven. "Crucify!" they now cry,
So He's crowned and beaten and then nailed to a tree;
This King, Priest and Sacrifice; thorns and straw set us free.
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