12/24/2024
Every Christmas, I’m amazed at the hustle and bustle, crowded shopping malls, concerts and programs, decorations and lights, cookies and cakes. Part of me savors it all, inhaling the season like a deep breath of pine and holly. Yet, another part marvels at the sheer improbability of it all—a global celebration rooted in an event from a remote, humble corner of the world.
Have you ever paused to consider how the Christmas story must sound to someone unfamiliar with its spiritual significance? On the surface, it might seem absurd. And yet, year after year, the festivities roll on, often detached from faith but overflowing with presents, lights, and Christmas ham.
In an episode of the TV show Thirtysomething, Hope, a Christian, argues with her Jewish husband, Michael, about the holidays. “Why do you even bother with Hanukkah?” she asks. “Do you believe a handful of Jews held off a huge army by using a bunch of lamps that miraculously wouldn’t run out of oil?”
Michael responds with exasperation: “Oh, and Christmas makes more sense? Do you really believe an angel appeared to some teenage girl who then got pregnant without ever having sex and traveled on horseback to Bethlehem where she spent the night in a barn and had a baby who turned out to be the Savior of the world?” (Yancey, The Savior I Never Knew, 30).
His skepticism is understandable. Childlike faith embraces angelic messages, immaculate conception, and, yes, even Santa Claus making it to every home in one night. But as we grow older, don’t we outgrow such faith? Don’t we rely on what can be scientifically proven, measured, or tested?
Yet, not all truth fits neatly into a test tube. The Christmas story defies empirical constraints but carries undeniable impact. Its reverberations echo through history—from the shepherds’ astonished visit to Herod’s furious reaction, from the gospel writers who preserved it to the movement of Christianity that now spans the globe. Even the most skeptical observer must admit: something extraordinary happened that night in Bethlehem, something that transformed the world.
If there was ever a story that should not have gotten past the introduction, it is the unlikely story of God’s eternal plan resting on the response of two rural teenagers. The condemning looks of villagers who could plainly see the changing shape of Mary’s body—nine months of awkward explanations along with the lingering scent of scandal.
Philip Yancey writes, “It seems that God arranged the most humiliating circumstances possible for his entrance as if to avoid any charge of favoritism. I am impressed that when the Son of God became a human being, he played by the rules, harsh rules: small towns do not treat kindly young boys who grow up with questionable paternity” (ibid., 32).
So this Christmas, when you see a card proclaiming “Joy to the World” or hear the strains of “Silent Night,” take a moment to reflect on the extraordinary obedience that made it all possible. Remember the courage of two young people who dared to trust God’s plan. Consider Mary’s quiet resolve as she listened to the angel’s startling message, pondered its implications, and replied, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”
