If I could be granted one miracle, it would be that the expectancy of Christmas would fill the air every day:
• the excitement of children eagerly waiting for Santa to come
• the renewed friendships fuelled by seasonal love
• glistening lights and delicate decorations perfectly positioned in each house, shop or street
• so much food that your belly aches at just the thought of it
• special gifts for everyone, poshly wrapped in pretty paper
• guessing which Bond film would send dad to sleep, contented after a mountain of food.
So much excitement and so many memories.
My childhood memories of Christmas with my family are still special to me. I remember each one with joy. It's funny how you grow used to things and create your own family traditions. I grew so used to doing things in a certain way that I expected to see or hear things from my past at Christmas time. But the day dad left home Christmas was never the same again. I suddenly realised that I couldn't rely on just family traditions for Christmas anymore, because my family wasn't complete. By now my brother, David, had a girlfriend and often did a vanishing trick for hours on end. Mum soldiered on, but I could feel her anguish and guilt, even though her only crime was loving that great big confused dad of mine.
Meanwhile, in my search for a hiding place, I began to notice how other people behaved at Christmas. I discovered the joy of buying gifts for other people. I delighted in the smiles of complete strangers wishing me happy Christmas. The shopkeepers were more helpful and even arch-enemies at school took the time to scrawl merry Christmas on a jolly card.
Was it me or had the whole world changed overnight? And why were they so happy?
I remember walking to town from our house. Everyday I would pass the cemetery; at the bottom, near the gate, stood an empty wooden cross. On it was a mottled brass plate with the inscription, "Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by?" I thought back then, "Shouldn't that have been taken down at Easter? . . . Why is it here at Christmas?" But gradually it helped me to rediscover the babe in a manger. It was easy to keep him there. I felt more in control that way. Every now and then I'd let Him out of the manger and rediscover His childhood stories, like when He got told off by His mum and dad for hiding in the temple; or I'd relive the story my RE teacher told me, about how He healed little sparrows. When I felt more adventurous, I'd let Him perform a few miracles, like making alcoholic water or spitting in people's eyes. I used to think what strange habits this man Jesus had.
Still the words were calling to me. "Is it nothing to you?" Did I really know the baby that would become Jesus? John tells us that 'The Word became flesh and dwelt among us'.
Whether we are Jew, Greek, Gentile or Yellow Belly the WORD is the reason we exist. The word is God. And, as I get older, Jesus continues to get bigger than me and I can't fit Him into the manger anymore. I think about the stable and I remember the scriptures describing a great king with terrible armies, living in a palace. The King was born in a stable, homeless. His only attendants a loving mother exhausted from the birth and a bewildered Joseph, knowing this child was not his own, but God's. I think about these things and the blunt reality of the Christmas story hits me right between the eyes. If Jesus was born today, would His stable be the cardboard cities or would we make room for the King? Would we believe the shepherds heard His angels or would we lock them up in the loony bin and pretend they'd seen a UFO?
How many people cherish the air of expectancy of Christmas time and don't know the person who it's all about? We all teach kids about Santa and baby Jesus, but are we really going to leave Jesus in the manger at Christmas and pack Him away with the decorations in the new year. Or, are we prepared to unwrap the greatest gift that God has given us and recognise that Jesus IS real?
He felt joy, pain, sadness, anger, love, worry, temptation, betrayal and loneliness. He ate and drank, slept and worked, bled and died, just like us. But Jesus is alive today and that is what we should be celebrating this Christmas. He is interested in us. He wants to share everything with us and wants us to learn to know and trust Him. Isn't it time we put Christ back into Christmas?
I love Christmas with all its trimmings and joy. But I will never forget that empty cross and hope I will never pass by saying it means nothing to me. I know the baby is a man and the man is, was and always will be Emmanuel, God with us. In Jesus God has given us a truly astounding gift this and every Christmas.
If you could be granted one miracle this Christmas, what would it be?