The Side Door Nativity
Driving to work the other morning I felt rushed. The kids were in school, and I felt hurried to start my workday. Stopped at the red light, I glanced over to the row of houses lining the street. Sipping the steaming coffee in my to-go cup, I noticed a plastic nativity scene set up by the side door of a small brick house. Then the light turned green so I quickly focused on the road, but I frowned.
I tried not to speed, but I was late and there was a lot to do. It is the Christmas season, the festive jingle reminded me as it crooned from the radio. Still, the image of the side door Nativity hung in my mind. “How strange?” I said to myself as I pulled into my usual parking space.
Gathering my Mary Poppins bag full of all the wonders of my life, I braved the cold as I rushed to the church office door. The tasks of the day rolled around in my mind like the puffs of air coming from my mouth like little white clouds in the crisp morning air. When I finally sat down at my desk, I immediately found myself elbow-deep in emails and items on my to-do list to complete.
It wasn’t until the drive home that night that I again remembered the side door Nativity. Why would the Christmas story be segregated to the side door? The lawn looked big enough to house the festive stable scene. I drove by many homes lit up with colorful lights. One house even had a blow-up dinosaur bobbing in the cold wind. These decorations were lit brightly and fashioned to draw attention to the eye as if to say, Hey it is Christmas.
But the side door Nativity did not proclaim a Merry Christmas. In the blue shadows of evening, the moon peered through the overcast night sky. No spotlight illuminated the Virgin Mary as she looked upon the miracle child. No light revealed the peaceful countenance of the animals gathered in the stable. The stand-in Father, Joseph, stood in obscurity as he looked upon the infant face of his savior. Only the moon’s light illuminated the Christ child’s face looking up into the eyes of a broken world. On the quiet drive home the little plastic Jesus stuck in my mind.
As I try to shop for those on my Christmas list I often forget the real reason for all the parties and gifts. It is not that I mean to leave Jesus out by the side door, it’s just…
I am a bit too busy.
There are Christmas cookies to bake, a tree to decorate, concerts to attend, and parties to enjoy. It sounds great, and for moments I will enjoy it. Somehow though, I know I am missing the true meaning of it all. The true meaning of Christmas is too easily shoved out the side door to make room for all the tinsel and lights…
Late that evening when everyone was in bed, my to-do list was still not completed. On the couch, in pajamas and slippers, I heard the whisper of the Holy Spirit calling my heart, “O Come and adore Him.”
The Christmas tree twinkled brightly with warm white light and handmade ornaments. In the stillness, I finally took the time. In reflection, I cast aside the to-do list and embraced the savior in a manger.
“Away in a manger no crib for a bed
The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The stars in the sky looked down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.”
