The power and the glory and the story
I’m watching the forecast. Are you?
I think we’ve had snow every year at Christmas Eve since I’ve been here. Sometimes a little. Sometimes a lot. Last year we gathered outside. This year we’re back to “normal” if there even is “normal” anymore.
I was thinking about that. Normal Christmas. How did Christmas get normative and routine? It’s anything but. The story, though oft told, is anything but normative. A virgin gives birth to a babe in a barn, surrounded by sheep ranchers along with a company of angels, and a throng of animals. There’s a star in the sky that leads spiritually wise folks bearing gifts to this child’s birthplace, while political rulers tremble at the possibility that prophecy is becoming reality. A new, young, angel-visited mom takes a second to catch her breath knowing she’s in the middle of something here.
The story is both cosmic and earthy. It makes bold claims like, “every mountain shall be made low and every valley will be raised up,” while giving everyday people like little ole you and little ole me practical advice—“if you have two coats, give one away. If you have more food than your family can eat, then share.”
This story is wild and weird and mystical and practical and prophetic. It’s an old story but not yet finished. It’s a story that happened. It’s a story that’s happening.
Finding ourselves and each other in the story is the work ahead for us in these next few days. I’ll see you along the way. I’ll be watching for you. You be watching for me, please. We’re in the middle of something here, and we’re in the middle of it together.