Merry Christmas

Hmm. Christmas. What does that make you think of?

Some people think of a cone-shaped tree in the living room, wrapped in twinkling lights and crowned with a plastic star. Which is actually pretty weird if you think about it, because what in the world does that have to do with anything?

Some people think of an enormously fat, apparently omnipresent man in a red coat who somehow squeezes himself, in a rather criminally-minded manner, down the chimney at night, leaving presents for everyone in socks hung by the fireplace. That's even worse than the whole tree thing, because besides being weird and disturbing, it's just plain impossible.

Other people, the pious ones, remember "the real reason for the season". They think of singing angels in the sky, richly-dressed kings on camels, shepherds, sheep, and a sweet little baby in a feed trough. In some ways, I suppose this is the strangest Christmas image of all.

It is, nevertheless, a familiar one. You can hardly live in America and not know what a "nativity scene" is. We recognize them at once, with the necessary components--Mary, Joseph, three wise men, a selection of shepherds, a donkey, a cow, and a few sheep--all gathered in a neat little arc, with a neat little manger in the center, cradling a baby in a neat little nest of fresh, soft straw. It's a serene and peaceful arrangement. It's tidy, it's well-lit, and it's cute. But there's nothing "cute" about Christmas.

What is there, honestly, that is "cute" about having to be born in a stable? Even on a superficial, story-telling level, it's rather horrible. A stable is for animals. It smells like animals, and it's cold at night and dirty. In most portrayals of the nativity scene, I've noticed that the manger is uncommonly cradle-like, both in size and in structure. I haven't done any in-depth research on ancient Middle-Eastern mangers, so maybe that's really what they were like; but somehow I doubt it. And even if they were, if you think about it, would you readily lay your hours-old baby to sleep in a trough from which farm animals had eaten, lined only with a layer of scratchy, prickly hay? What a rude way for any baby to greet the world, let alone the Son of God. The scene we call the nativity is many things, but it can never be cute.

Go deeper. Perhaps indeed we are too flippant about the circumstances into which Christ was born; perhaps we gloss over the atrocity of it all. But how do we treat the infant Savior Himself?

Of a "holy infant, so tender and mild" we sing, and we request that He "sleep in heavenly peace". We smile indulgently as we listen to small children tell us in song about "the little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay", laid away in a manger.

From whence comes this condescension? Does it never occur to us that the only reason the infant lay there in the manger at all was because He had come to suffer the torments of hell in the place of His chosen people? Our offense against God is so great, that this was the payment required: that the eternal, almighty Son of God must be born a helpless baby, live a homeless man, and die the death of a criminal, rejected by man and forsaken by God. Never once, in the life He lived for us, did He sin. But His is not an adorable innocence, bathed in a soft, friendly glow and covered all around with comfortable fuzzies. His perfect holiness ought instead to drive us, trembling, to our knees in humility and unspeakable gratitude. God's love, demonstrated thus in the sacrifice that set us free, is indeed beyond our comprehension, and this really should fill us with joy, for the agony of hell that faced us has been replaced with glory and eternal life in Christ. But this does not make Him a God to be trifled with. He is not, as C.S.Lewis so powerfully put it, a tame lion.

O LORD, I have heard Your speech and was afraid;
O LORD, revive Your work in the midst of the years!
In the midst of the years make it known;
In wrath remember mercy.
God came from Teman,
The Holy One from Mount Paran.
His glory covered the heavens,
And the earth was full of His praise.
His brightness was like the light;
He had rays flashing from His hand,
And there His power was hidden.
Before Him went pestilence,
And fever followed at His feet.
He stood and measured the earth;
He looked and startled the nations.
And the everlasting mountains were scattered,
The perpetual hills bowed.
His ways are everlasting.
I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction;
The curtains of the land of Midian trembled.
O LORD, were You displeased with the rivers,
Was Your anger against the rivers,
Was Your wrath against the sea,
That You rode on Your horses, Your chariots of salvation?
Your bow was made quite ready;
Oaths were sworn over Your arrows.
You divided the earth with rivers.
The mountains saw You and trembled;
The overflowing of the water passed by.
The deep uttered its voice,
And lifted its hands on high.
The sun and moon stood still in their habitation;
At the light of Your arrows they went,
At the shining of Your glittering spear.
You marched through the land in indignation;
You trampled the nations in anger.
You went forth for the salvation of Your people,
For salvation with Your Anointed.
You struck the head from the house of the wicked,
By laying bare from foundation to neck.
You thrust through with his own arrows
The head of his villages.
They came out like a whirlwind to scatter me;
Their rejoicing was like feasting on the poor in secret.
You walked through the sea with Your horses,
Through the heap of great waters.
(Habakkuk 3 : 2 - 15)

God's character has never changed and never will, even when He came as a baby, even when He hung dying on the tree. Can you stand before this God and call Him "sweet little Jesus"? Can you stand before Him and say anything at all, without His salvation?

When I heard, my body trembled;
My lips quivered at the voice;
Rottenness entered my bones;
And I trembled in myself,
That I might rest in the day of trouble.
When he comes up to the people,
He will invade them with his troops.
Though the fig tree may not blossom,
Nor fruit be on the vines;
Though the labor of the olive may fail,
And the fields yield no food;
Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,
And there be no herd in the stalls--
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The LORD God is my strength;
He will make my feet like deer's feet,
And He will make me walk on my high hills.
To the Chief Musician.
With my stringed instruments.
(Habakkuk 3 : 16 - 19)