Christmas Eve

On our bookshelf at home we have a story that I used to read to my son at Christmas.  The story took place in a land far, far away.  The land was ruled by an elegant King and Queen and all the people loved them.  Their castle was surrounded by forests that were filled with fir trees, and every year just before Christmas the Queen would ride out with her woodsman to choose the most perfect Christmas tree they could find, to be set up in the Great Hall in the castle.  It was a great honor to be chosen by the Queen and the trees in the forest spent years carefully tending their branches, stretching up as tall as they could, straightening out crooked limbs, and brushing out their spiky leaves until they were as perfect as they could be.  Now there was a little tree in that forest that had worked day and night to perfect its beauty before the Queen’s ride through the forest.  By now this little tree was the perfect tree shape, wide and spreading at the bottom, gradually tapering to a perfect point at the top.  He was sure the Queen would love him at first sight.  He sighed to himself as he imagined how beautiful he would look in the great hall dressed in fine balls and all the trimmings of Christmas. 

That night the snow began and the little tree held its branches firm so they would not droop with the weight of the snow.  He was almost asleep when he felt a tiny bird land on one of his branches.  Annoyed he tried to shake off the little bird that was shivering in the extreme cold.  The little bird tried in vain to hold on to the quivering branch before falling to the ground where it lay frozen, unable to move.  The little tree, horrified at what he had done reached out with one of his lower branches and scooped up the little bird, creating a warm hollow for it, off the cold, icy ground.  Thankfully the little bird fell asleep.  A little while later the tree heard the sound of horns – a hunt was in progress.  A terrified fox raced into the clearing frantically looking for a place to hide.  “Come over here” whispered the tree.  “You can hide in my branches close to my trunk.”  The little fox slipped under the branches of the tree just as the hounds came into view.  The little tree surrounded the fox with thick sweet smelling branches that masked the foxes smell.  All night long the little tree reached out to help the animals of the forest.  When morning came he was exhausted.  The branches that had once been immaculately tended were bent and broken by the animals that had taken refuge during the night.  The little tree realized that he was no longer the beautiful tree that would catch the Queen’s eye as she rode through the forest. 

The next morning the woodsman led the Queen into the woods on her search for the perfect tree.  They came to the clearing where the little tree stood.  The woodsman’s voice filled the air.  “Where is that beautiful little tree that was standing here yesterday?”  He searched everywhere but he couldn’t find it.  The Queen had by now dismounted and was checking the forest herself.  As she came across the little tree that had bravely helped so many of the woodland animals she noticed the signs of the animals that had taken refuge there the night before.  Realizing what had happened she bent down and spoke to the tree.  “You have been helping the little animals” She said.  “That’s why your branches are bent and broken.  Why you’re such a kind little tree.  You shall be the one to adorn the Great Hall this year.  Bring this tree to the castle.”  She ordered the woodsman. 

As we listen to the Christmas story each year, we hear once more the profoundly good news, that God like the little tree, cares passionately for anyone who has ever struggled in the overwhelming darkness of despair, has ever lived a broken life.  We see a God who sends his only son into the brokenness of this world to reach those who are living without hope, without the capacity to change the suffering with which they live.  Perhaps that’s why we come to church at Christmas.  Perhaps we come because we want desperately to believe that God cares about the pain we have experienced during the past year.  Perhaps we come because we want desperately to believe in the possibility that the peoples of the world might live in harmony and peace - that wars might sometime in the future cease.  Perhaps we come because we need the tiny window of opportunity we are offered at Christmas to take a break from the competitiveness that fills our lives, the need to work an 80 hour week in order to keep our job, the need to be at the peak of our performance at all times.  Peeking into the manger with the smell of Christmas spices in the air, and the sound of Christmas carols in our ears might indeed help us to stop for a moment to remember the love of family and friends, the joy of giving gifts to children, the laughter that comes when we gather with those we love.  Perhaps that’s why we come!

But for those of us who stay and linger a little longer there is an even more profound message to be heard at the stable door.  Gazing at the tiny newborn baby lying in a manger might perhaps remind us of the times we have held our own newborn babes, or our little brothers or sisters, have been given the awesome responsibility of cradling a tiny, fragile human being in our arms.  Perhaps we have marveled at the trust that is placed within the heart of every human child - that there will be someone there to feed them, to love them and to care for them. 

I will always remember the day I held my own son in my arms for the first time.  He was born very early so they had to lift him out of the isolete to give him to me.  There were tubes coming out of his tiny body, tubes that were necessary to keep him alive.  As they took him out his eyes were closed.  He lay on my chest and his breathing immediately slowed down.  As he felt the warmth of my skin and heard the sound of my heartbeat, the sound he had had been listening to all those months in the womb his eyes opened wide and he looked up into my face as if to say “Ah! There you are.  I wondered where you had gone.”  Then he went back to sleep.

In his son Jesus, God comes to us as a tiny newborn babe.  God trusts us to care for him, to protect him from the terrible forces of this world that would come against him, to offer him food and shelter and warmth.  God wants us to fall in love with him as we fall in love with our own children because at the heart of all that God has created is the promise that we can be in love with our God as our God is in love with us.  God’s love for this world he created and for everything within it is so great that the only way to express that love was to trust himself to us, to allow his beloved son to be placed among us in the most vulnerable way possible in the hope that we would not be threatened by his power but would respond with compassion and love.

The image of the little tree that stooped down over and over again to shelter the animals of the forest reminds me of the infinitely compassionate God who reaches down over and over again to touch our suffering and brokenness.  It reminds me also that God himself was willing to become a vulnerable infant child in order to give us the opportunity to fall in love with God.  The baby Jesus born in a manger tells us more than words could ever say about the God we worship and adore.  We simply have to open our hearts and invite him in as we welcome our own children when they are new born.  Come Lord Jesus, come.