Wednesday, December 21, 2011 - Christmas: Blue, White, Green and Red, or Surprise Me?

Certain professions require exact planning and little room for error: accounting, architecture, research, surgery, and . . . carpentry, to name a few. Max Lucado, in "Joseph's Prayer" (from The Heart of Christmas)  gives us a peek into how the circumstances of Jesus' birth may have shifted the earth under the steady feet of this thoughtful, responsible, and caring carpenter.
    "I'm unaccustomed to such strangeness, God.  I'm a carpenter.  I make things fit.  I square off the edges.  I follow the plumb line.  I measure twice before I cut once.  Surprises are not the friend of a builder.  I like to know the  plan.  I like to see the plan before I begin.
     But this time I'm not the builder, am I?  This time I'm the tool.  A hammer in Your grip.  A nail between Your fingers.  A chisel in Your hands.  This project is Yours, not mine." 
     Nothing about Jesus' birth measured up in Joseph's mind.  Jesus wasn't even granted the family-centered birth of a fully human child, much less the majestic entrance He deserved as the Messiah. 
     We may have firm ideas and plans about how to celebrate Christmas: traditions to observe, foods to serve, how to decorate the tree, where to be on Christmas Eve. We may not get that Christmas feeling if we don't do certain things with certain people, but the first Christmas was nothing like our snowy white, red and green, Santa filled holiday scene.  Maybe if we, like Joseph, let go of our plans and ideas of what a Christmas "should be" we'll experience Christmas the way it was designed to be.  If we don't try to outdo Clark Griswold with the number of lights we put on our house, we free ourselves for God to use us as angels to take the light filled message into the dark.  Maybe we could forego one Christmas movie to be shepherds who tell crowds in a busy town like Bethlehem about the Baby.  Or, we could add a name to our guest list so God can use us as He used the animals in the stable: as a haven to keep the chill away from another human being.
 
Father, help us let You plan this Christmas, leaving room for angel songs, unexpected guests, new stars, and even homeliness and simplicity.  If we have to spend Christmas in the garage this year, may we honor You.  If we're alone or not in our normal places, may we glorify You.  If people let us down, we have peanut butter and jelly instead of turkey or ham, the lights on the tree go out, or the candles catch the curtains on fire, may we celebrate You as Savior and King. Help us leave room for the surprising, unplanned moments that give each Christmas a personal identity.  We're tossing out our blueprints and lists of musts when they don't lead to celebrating You.  
In the Name of Jesus  Heavenly Prince, born in the parking deck of His day