Forgetting Baby Jesus
”The cast had taken off their costumes. The wise men’s crowns and capes and the shepherd’s cloaks were folded and placed back in the storage tubs along with Mary’s and Joseph’s garments for another year. The donkey and the cow and her calf were delivered back to the farm, and the sheep were turned lose in their pasture. The straw was removed from the make-shift shelter, leaving only the skeleton of timbers that made up the frame of a stable. Within minutes of the closure at the stable, everyone had gathered in the church, as the pews of the sanctuary were filling up with visitors, and the choir members were donning their robes and exercising their vocal cords. The sanctuary was packed, and the cantata was a beautiful offering of musical gifts, giving three local churches an opportunity to come together in a joint experience of Christmas worship. The night ended with a sense of pleasure that we had honored God with the best of who we were and satisfaction that we had represented well “the reason for the season.” We would all sleep well that night.
Early the next morning as I awakened, I bundled up, hitched up my dog, Gus, and headed out the door for my regular morning exercise and prayer walk around the church campus. When I rounded the corner to the back of the church, I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Filled with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame, I stood for a moment at a distance from the bare stable, not believing what I was seeing. There was Baby Jesus, lying in the manger, all alone. No one had remembered to take the baby out of the rugged make-shift manger. All night the baby had been left alone, exposed to the elements of the night, and not one of us had even giventhe baby another thought. I walked closer to the stable, sort of glancing over my shoulder to make sure that no one was watching. Then I picked up Baby Jesus, and wrapped the blanket carefully around his little face. Surely, he had gotten cold. By now the tears were streaming down my face. How could we have forgotten the baby? Who should have been responsible for taking the baby inside? Everything and everyone else were taken care of appropriately, as we hurried on to the next event of the night. How could we have forgotten Jesus?
True, it was only a doll, but God was preaching to me a sermon that I couldn’t possibly miss. How often do we do this very thing? How often do we get so busy and consumed with “doing” that we miss simply “being” with the Creator of the universe? How often do we literally forget Jesus?
I cradled the baby in the crook of my arm as I continued my walk around the church perimeter. What a sight I must have been to those who were driving by…a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes in one hand, my dog on leash in the other, with tears streaming down my face. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me for becoming so preoccupied with ministry that I often forget you…even if just for a night…or a day…or even just for a moment.
This Christmas, for me, the Word truly became flesh and made His dwelling in my heart. May He dwell in your heart, as well.”
(Written by and graciously offered for our reflection this day after Christmas from a friend of mine in ministry in Tennessee.)