"So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born…"
It gets real for me when I set up the crèche. I do it the same way each year, placing the figures the same way in the stable, and the angels at the same angles on the gold lame cloth that represents the glory of the Lord (that “shone round about them…”). The three kings are on a higher book shelf, still on their journey. The shepherd and the sheep are nearby in the field. This year, shock of shocks, I made a change: I moved the stable cat down from the hayloft, closer to the manger. (The velociraptor remains in the loft… danger lurks in the most pastoral of scenes.)
And Mary and Joseph await the birth, gazing at an empty manger, waiting… waiting… waiting for the moment when it all changes, when new life brings an end to the old. Mary and Joseph were never going to be able to go back to what they’d known. No new parents can – and these two were going to face more change than most.
What are you waiting for in your life this week? Perhaps it’s related to Christmas, perhaps not.
What new life are you praying for?
And what are you hoping will never go away?
New life is always coming at us, sometimes taking up the space of something we rather liked, or had grown comfortable with. Is there something yearning to take up space in your life, space you’re willing to make by letting something else go?
On Christmas Eve, when I get home from church, I will fetch the baby out of the little wicker trunk in the back of the stable (hey, Mary had to have some luggage…) and place him in the manger.
Jesus always shows up, eventually.
Sometimes we just have to let him out of the baggage…
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