The Manger Seen

“Hurry to the manger!” Asa chants under his exerted breath.

Up the lantern-lit path, into the woods he runs ahead of me. I follow after, straining to see which way the dark, leafy trail will turn next.

I could have lost sight of him in the night, had he not felt compelled to pause at every single lantern. Peering down into each sand-filled paper sack, his little face gleams at the flickering candle, “Another Light. More lights!” Then back on task, he races to the next one, “I wanna see the manger!”

Mobilized by anticipation, we walk with a random group of friends and neighbors through this live nativity. The winding trail offers several narrated scenes commemorating the first Christmas. 

At each stop along the way, Asa works his way through our small rambling crowd to see the action and hear the Word. He wants to see the angel. He wants to pet the sheep. He wants to be the announcer!

Into his excitement, I repeat my hushed reminders of being a good listener and keeping our voices down. He does his best. *And when we linger too long in one place, he experiments with dead leaves and open flames. It’s fine.

At last, we round a cluster of rocks to see a small wooden manger highlighted in the broad beams of a tree-mounted flood lamp. There are Mary and Joseph holding a mysteriously small, motionless bundle. But the quasi-realistic staging still somehow whispers, “Messiah has come.”  On cue, three costumed shepherds arise from their rock and enter the scene.

“And the shepherds said to one another, ‘Come let us go to Bethlehem and see …”

And there they go - all four of them. The last little shepherd boy, kneeling before the infant king is much smaller, and dressed in an Old Navy hoodie and his Bass Pro Shop hat.

My prideful preference for a two-year-old to behave and be subtle is overshadowed by the divine beauty of it all. Despite all my self-consciousness, I could not possibly rip him away from his curiously pure worship. After a moment, it is those standing quietly at a distance who seem almost inappropriate.

Jesus says, “Let the little children come to me.”

On an evening, where I set out to show my son something about Jesus, Jesus has something to show me through my little boy.

How often do I search for glimpses of glory? 

Do I consistently pause to take in the wonder of Light shining in the darkness?

When have I rushed to discover and share the place where Jesus rests?
What crowds could I edge my way out of in order to get a clearer perspective?

What is my part to play? Why do I stay back ... too often placing premium on propriety?

Perhaps my intentions should be to BEHOLD instead of to BEHAVE.

Beholding is becoming, then behavior follows supernaturally.

At Christmas, and every day, I pray we find our way … to the Way … from light to light.
From glory to glory, I pray we are changed.

I pray we light the way for others. “Another light. More light.”

Offering peace while the world around us strives and contrives;
Promising hope where darkness crowds; and
Showing love when so many are in need.

May this season reveal surprisingly beautiful aspects of His story in and through us.

May we chase toward the meaning and purpose of it all with humility and reverence …
and receive the selfless courage to step in and bow low.