December. One of my Advent habits is an evening pause. I turn off all the lights in our home except for the Christmas tree. Why do I do that? Because God wired me (and you) to gaze at beauty. It’s remarkable how tiny bulbs of light wrapped around evergreen branches dazzle and calm the beholder. It never disappoints. Every evening I live in expectation of more wonder.
As we prepare to celebrate the beautiful mystery of Christ’s incarnation, we are drawn into the stunning truth that the physical world—including Christ’s ruddy, infant-born flesh and the chilly cave he was born in—are all a part of God’s good redemption story.
I wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere in your home you have a crèche, a manger scene. We have several, each made differently. Each one is a craftsman’s unique endeavor to bring attention to Jesus. He’s the radical reality, surrounded by worshippers and smelly creatures great and small.
I’ll never forget the day I heard our once little daughter Jill say—'Mommy, Christmas is when God became little.'
The clarity of her words stunned me with the realization that the beautiful revelation of God’s incarnational truth was simmering in her tender heart. She heard and learned. And she saw, in the simplest of mangers, a beautiful provision she longed for.
Who will enter your home this Christmas?
Later this month, our Berean Small Group is going to gather in our home to celebrate the year anniversary of a Syrian refugee family’s arrival to America. After living 7 years in a Lebanon refugee camp, Barbara and Zeke (not their real names), along with their two daughters, arrived in Burnsville in December 2021. What a climate and culture shock.
As a group, we’ve had many opportunities to serve these lovely, courageous people—hours of English conversation, preparing them for their driver’s license test, searching for jobs, scheduling doctors’ appointments, and introducing the girls to Minnesota parks. It’s been a joy to share the love of Jesus in practical ways.
On December 18, we will welcome Barbara and Zeke’s family to our home. As a group, we want to make a “big deal” about their resilient adjustment to a totally new life (and realizing they will never have the freedom to return to see family in Syria). We will munch on appetizers. Cut a cake. Have a craft project for the girls. Maybe even provide a few laughs with charades.
I’m eager. I’m prayerful. And yes, a tad “nervous.” I’m wondering what they will see, touch, and feel in our home—
The adornments that tell the story of the unstoppable gospel. The names of Jesus hanging on the Christmas tree. They will see glistening lights and rugged crèches. They will feel the authentic joy of Christ-followers. I don’t know what conversations and curiosities this day will bring, but I know beauty woos the human heart to God.
Let your home be a place where others can meet Jesus.
When we invite others who do not know Jesus to the personal space of our homes, we prepare an opportunity for the glory of the Lord to be revealed. I want to practice Advent by living in holy expectation that Jesus is still coming to seek and save the lost with his beautiful gift of salvation.
Let your home be an open door for others to get a whiff of the meaning of Christmas. Emmanuel! God is with us.
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