Dear Molly,
Luke 2:1-7
When I read the birth-plan that God had in place for His
firstborn I can’t help but pity Mary a little bit. This is because I’m so prone
to pity myself when God’s plans are not working out as I had hoped. I wonder if she thought God had somehow lost
control of the situation. I know I would
have! Instead of being in her own
familiar home with her mother to help her through her most difficult moments,
she is in a strange city without even the privacy of a room to rent and her
fiancé as an unlikely midwife.
I can imagine a hundred scenarios that would have been
cleaner, more comfortable and more holy (in my skewed definition) surrounding
Christ’s birth than what God hand in mind.
But Jesus didn’t come seeking recognition, though no other birth has
ever been more worthy of praise. And He
didn’t come looking for a sanitary and painless life. He came to challenge my tidy and religious
faith. He came to rescue me from my
filth on the inside, not worrying about the outside. He came to set me free from the eternal pain
of living without His Love and Peace that completes me like nothing and no one
else can.
This story reminds me that God sees the big picture. He knew His vulnerable newborn Son needed the
obscurity of His birth to hide him away from jealous eyes of King Herod. He knew that soft hay and a feeding trough
better represented the purpose of Christ’s coming than the finest of cradles
and comforts of home. And He knew that a
few foreign wise men would finance His safe escape to Egypt and keep His secret
from Herod best until the time of His public ministry.
In my immaturity I think that if I am following God’s plans
for my life it should be comfortable, sanitary and full of helpful support from
those who know me and love me best. This
story, like many others in the Bible, reminds me once again that God often lets
the dirty, uncomfortable and lonely things work out His plans for me. He knows
I will learn more from them than I would the easier path. Or as C.S. Lewis puts
it, “that in His effort to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the
troughs even more than the peaks” (The
Screwtape Letters, chapter 8). He
shows up in the most unlikely of places and does thing opposite than what I expected.
Nothing illustrates this more to me than an Infant King cradled in a feeding
trough, in a dirty cave tucked away in a little town called Bethlehem.
Abba, when I try and
re-write your plans to make them cleaner, full of acclamation, and free of pain
help me to remember that You are in control.
And remind me that You have a purpose behind it all. Help me look for You where I least expect to
find You – not in the best of homes but in a manger full of hay.
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