A Christmas Mystery

I admit to being a geek. Anybody who knows anything about me knows that I always carry a notebook of some kind or size to take notes on my life. I don't do it because I intend to blog about everything that happens to me; I really don't. But I do it because I intend to do what Mary, the mother of Jesus, did when He was born and as He grew up. I intend to ponder these things in my heart.

Over that past few weeks, I have taken a lot of notes on my life and on life in this city I have grown to love. Here are some of the things I am pondering these days.

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Why do people give presents to each other at Christmas time? If Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Jesus, then what do presents have to do with that? If Christmas is not about celebrating Christmas, then what do presents have to do with it? (Yes, we give presents to our children. Every year, I raise this question with Steve and the children. Every year, the other three people in my house hope and pray that I won't force this issue. Every year so far, the majority has won out.)

Why don't we listen to Christmas music all year round? (I do, but why don't other people?)

What is the deal with the huge inflated snowmen and life-size snow globes outside of people's houses? Why don't people leave them inflated during the day? All those huge plastic/rubber cadavers on front lawns are pretty weird. And why on earth do people risk life and limb putting not only those strange figurines, but also electric lights and deer on their roofs and gutters? What does any of that have to do with Christmas?

Last night at our church's Christmas concert, I was struck by two simple sentences in a song that was sung. "It's still a mystery to me that the hands that made the world could be so small. It's still a mystery to me that those infant eyes saw the dawn of time."

If Jesus, God the Son, came to earth through Mary,
if the story of His birth as told in the book of Luke is true,
then there is no greater mystery.

What wondrous love is this.
Joy to the World.
O Holy Night.
Indeed.





Do we really do all of this because of that?