carbonated joy

We have sanitized the stable.
We have made Christmas family friendly.
We have removed the sharp edges and turned the nativity into a cute, fuzzy, gingerbread scene.
We’ve lost the plot.
We’ve robbed the Christmas story of it’s shock value.
We’ve watered it down.
It’s the most shocking story ever!
It’s inconceivable that the Creator would choose to be conceived!
And look at who He chose to partner with Him…
Two dirt poor refugees looking for shelter in the night.
Rumors have followed them from their hometown.
She is with child and that has created more scandal than any red coffee cup.
They are looking for a safe place to welcome the King of Glory into His world.
There is none to be found.
Instead they share a space with livestock.
It is hardly sanitary or safe.
BUT, it becomes sacred.
The unmistakable odors of sweat, manure, blood and afterbirth…all combine to form the fragrance of glory.
The King has come, and He is helpless.
Creator is dependent on creation.
Hope in diapers.
The first to receive the birth announcement were shepherds.
They were outcasts, rejected, unwelcome, traveling circus freaks.
They were the outsiders who have suddenly, shockingly been invited inside.
They drop everything and breathlessly worship the baby, because that’s what you do when you are suddenly invited inside.
The Christmas story was never meant to be family friendly. It is meant to be family forming.
God took the most drastic measures ever to bring us from death to life, from forgotten to family, from refugees to adoptees.
The brightest of lights has shined in the darkest of nights.
It comforts, it brings peace and good will.
BUT, first, it’s meant to shock the hell out of us.