A Glorious Mess

We were going to my niece’s house for lunch. Hubby was dividing up the family into two cars as we were heading in different directions afterwards. “I’ll go with him,” he said. “And you go with him.” Then he laughed. “Okay, you go with Him…” (he drew a capital H in the air) “and I’ll go with the lowercase him.”

It was just a quip designed to bring comic relief and give clarity by referring to our youngest and oldest sons as capital and lowercase. But it made me think. Of Him. Intentional theological honorific upper case there.

I instantly asked myself: Am I going with Him? Or am I going along with societal expectations and all the pressure a commercial Christmas brings?

I started wondering why we give presents to each other when it’s Jesus’ birthday we’re celebrating. Shouldn’t He be the one getting the attention and the presents? He gives us the gift of His presence. The very least we could do is spend some of our time with Him instead of spending it racing around the shops trying to tick off every item on our lists.

When I was a little girl, my sister caught me peering out the window one Christmas morning, saying “Happy birthday, Jesus” to the sky. She loves retelling the story for the amusement of others. But I think I had it right way back then. It’s not about tackling the shops, list in one hand and electric cattle prod in the other (okay, that might be a little OTT, but wouldn’t it be great?) or the coordinated wrapping paper or the beautifully decorated trees or the naughty elves positioned in increasingly elaborate scenes. It’s only about Jesus, who asks for nothing but our love.