If you’ve read my blog around this time of year before, you know what I love about Christmas. But I’m going to tell you again, just in case you’re new.
I love two things, each of them separately and the fact that they work together as my favorite story ever. One, the commonness of the Christian Christmas story. And two, the magic of it.
I am extremely moved by the commonness. I love that Jesus was born among straw and animals and nothing of interest at all. I love that Joseph and Mary were plain, that shepherds showed up, and that it all happened under the nose of an innkeeper and all his guests without a soul of them knowing something amazing had begun. The reason I love this is becomes it makes me consider carefully my perspective on the world today. Where is Jesus today that I haven’t even bothered to look? In which common places or poor places or unattractive places would I find him if I would just approach them quietly, humbly, expectantly? That’s the first thing I love about Christmas.
Secondly, there was magic. Though almost every other aspect of his birth was common, there were also angels. I don’t think we take this part seriously either. The biblical stories are so familiar to us that we take them for granted. But, seriously? An angel choir in the sky? This astounds me and calls to all that intensity inside of me that hopes, wishes, prays, longs for there to be some magic in this world. I love that they sang. And I love that they did it for shepherds.
Hands down, my favorite part.