On Christmas Eve, we had a very nice sermon about Christmas and Christmas traditions and loving and so on. I expect the mediocre performance of the choir in which I sing might be influencing my perception, but I wasn't particularly impressed by the sermon. I really don't like "nice." There is no space in nice for the blood and poop of the stable, for crying and dancing with all your might, for the child that was considered a bastard and grew up to say a lot of very uncomfortable things. And most of all, nice does not leave enough room for the amazing wonder of God becoming human and his victory over death.
There is something foolish about believing that God became a baby: holy powerful God becoming a baby so that humans might be able to know God better. When I spend time wondering about it, I am astonished and amazed by God's love for us and desire that we might see Him (what we celebrate today on Epiphany). And I am given hope for things that appear to be impossible: reconciliation of relationships, people knowing God better, peace, and victory over death. And that, even if many would consider it foolish, is part of the wonder given in the birth of Jesus at Christmas.
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