Room in the Inn
Making Space in a Busy Season
Confession: Christmas is not my favorite holiday.
There. I said it.
Don’t get me wrong, the theology is beautiful. Magnificent, even.
From the beginning, God wove a tapestry of promises for a Savior Who would mend this broken world — and all threads tie to Jesus. That the eternal Creator would voluntarily become part of His own creation to redeem it through His own death for our selfishness is at once both ludicrous and marvelous at the same time.
The Christmas story is the fulcrum of the Christian faith. It is at Christ’s birth that the Old Testament pivots from the Law and the Prophets foretelling a Savior to the New Testament announcing the Savior’s arrival and fulfillment of all things.
Without the incarnation, there could be no resurrection. And without the resurrection, there is absolutely no hope in Christmas or Christianity whatsoever.
In Christ, we truly have “God with us” for He actually became one of us — though without sin. He cried. He nursed. He (dare I say it) needed his diapers changed. And while theologians have struggled to understand exactly how Christ’s divinity mingles with his humanity, I’m content to sit in wonder at God’s mysterious sense of irony. God and Man in the same Person. The Maker of all born in a stall. And all this witnessed by radiant angels and blue-collar shepherds alike.
It makes me smirk. And it gives me hope. I pray to a God who actually understands what it’s like to be human. Furthermore, the historic fact of Christ’s first coming gives me precedence for and confidence in His promised second when the Light of the World will one day obliterate the darkness. All the carols and all the Christmas lights echo this hope year after year after year. And the more years I see, the more reminders I need.
But there’s one aspect of Christmas which always frustrates me. And now, as a mother of five and homesteading owner of a very real manger, it frustrates me even more — though as a kid, my mind was too focused on presents and candy to notice.
Why was Jesus born in a barn? The throw-away phrase at the end of the Nativity narrative tells us: “because there was no room for them at the inn.” I hate that. “No room.”
Now, if I had been Mary and had just walked or ridden on a donkey for dozens of miles at nine months pregnant, I would not have felt very saintly about bearing the Savior of the world on a pile of hay — some of which was likely soiled with goat pellets and chicken poo. (And you can bet I would have informed both Joseph and that inn keeper of my feelings.)
Isn’t a woman in labor entitled to some consideration? I would have wanted a hot bath, fresh linens, some midwife assistance, and —after doing the deed which thousands of songs would praise afterward — another hot bath, and a delicious hot meal (on the house!) in the largest room of that inn. I’m pretty sure every other woman on the planet would have wanted the same.
But there was no room for Jesus at that inn. And what I often experience during the Christmas season is a similar “no vacancy” in my head/heart space for the very Person Christmas is supposed to celebrate.
Unfortunately, participating in the Christmas season sometimes feels like taking on a part time job (on top of all the other jobs I already have). I don’t like feeling rushed or the burden of a seemingly-endless to-do list. I don’t like the pressure of having to check off every Christmas tradition or feeling a mild sense of failure if I don’t complete them all (e.g. finishing the entire Advent devotional without skipping a day, watching all the Christmas movies, setting up the tree, the lights, the stockings, and my grandmother’s Dutch Christmas pyramid — basically a rotating wooden Nativity scene with candles — all by Dec. 1st or 3rd at the latest, etc.).
What usually crowds the room in my inn is the striving to meet my own unrealistic personal expectations which tend to manipulate how I appear to others. “The house should be perfectly clean before company!” “I need to make sure I have thoughtful gifts for my family and neighbors or people won’t feel loved!” “I need to make fancy meals worthy of the season!*” “I need to order things early so they’ll arrive before the 25th!” And on and on it goes.
It is this inner hustle and bustle I find far more problematic than the secular overemphasis on materialism or misguided popular Christmas songs which equate Christmas with a bearded sugar-daddy and the occasional romantic rendezvous.
So what’s the solution?
Should we toss out the tree? Cancel the Christmas choir? Be those people who forgo gifts and make everyone else feel awkward?
There may be wisdom in recognizing one’s need for rest and setting some boundaries during what can be a hectic, emotionally-taxing season. (A season which often seems to coincide with flu season for some cruel reason …)
But I think the best thing we can do — not only during the busy Christmas season but also during our busy lives — is to make room in our inns by being present where we are and connecting with God regularly.
BEING PRESENT: If I always focus on the things I must do in the future, I will miss the joys in the present. Fretting about what must be done tomorrow will rob me of contentment today. But if I can take a moment to thank God for what He has given me TODAY, it will help me breathe and relieve me of burdens I was never meant to bear. I can only live one day at a time; why fret over a month’s worth of tasks? These are the things I can talk to God about and entrust in His ever-capable hands.
BEING PLUGGED IN: I have the same 24 hours in a day that every other person on the planet has, and I make time for what I value most. If I say I value my husband but never spend time with him, our relationship will suffer even if our marriage is still in tact. But regular interaction energizes our relationship. So Jason and I try to connect with each other through daily tea times, weekly date nights, and yearly get-aways.
The same principle holds true for my relationship with God. If I say I love Him, but I never listen to Him (through the Bible), or talk to Him (through prayer), how could I hope to enjoy Him or obey Him? If I’m not plugged into Life’s True Source, how will I be empowered to live this life well?
This is not to say our relationship with God is something we earn or maintain through our own efforts (like a job). Quite the opposite, in fact. Scripture makes it clear God is the One who initiates and secures relationship with us. He made us. He loves us. He was born for us. He died for us. He rose for us. He saves us. And He gives us His Spirit so we can walk WITH Him in His ways. Those who believe in Christ are literally adopted into God’s family. I do not cease to be my father’s daughter just because I haven’t talked to him in a while.
I could no more deny my Heavenly Father than I could deny my earthly one. My very soul (through the presence of His Holy Spirit ) like my very DNA betrays me; we are connected regardless of personal interaction.
And yet, God designed us to personally interact with Him and with each other. Before sin came into the world, Adam and God would stroll through the garden talking together like it was normal. And I think the goal of the Biblical story is to restore that old “normal,” yet in a greater, fuller sense than Adam could then see. Jesus is the second Adam who renews us for that renewed normal. And it is the Christmas story which fulfills what was promised in the Old Testament and kickstarts this NEW.
So although I ran out of Christmas lights to cover the entire front porch (over a week into the Christmas season), and I haven’t yet bought all the gifts for the kids or fixed that one broken paddle in my grandmother’s Dutch Christmas pyramid (which is currently disassembled in a corner of my bedroom), I want to take a moment to breathe.
To enjoy the lights on our home-cut Christmas tree (which Jason again had to upright from its leaning position this afternoon). To relish celebratory gatherings with friends and family (even if my house isn’t perfectly clean). To marvel at the intricate perfection of an individual snowflake (if I get the privilege this winter). To revel in the spicy-sweetness of a warm cinnamon roll (even if it’s not made from scratch), and to glory in the magic of a candle-lit midnight Christmas Eve service (even if I yawn a little).
For as hackneyed as it may be to say, Jesus really is the reason for the season for He is the Greatest Gift of all. As I still strive to personalize this truth, Christmas gets to be my second favorite holiday.
But honestly, I prefer Thanksgiving.
:)
Merry Christmas.
This is cute and thoughtful and open. I’m leaning more and more towards Halloween myself.
Ah yes, let's pause and make room in our hearts...