November-December 1998

What's Wrong with This Picture?

by Dan Schaeffer

The debates are already beginning this year and will soon rage from city to city, state to state. Public nativity and manger scenes. Christians want them, some vocal non-Christians don't. So some vocal Christians will organize, plan, petition, threaten and go to the mat in an effort to display manger scenes. Some of them will be statues and wooden renderings, and others will be "live." But what message are we sending when we display our mangers?

Every Christmas our family puts out our own manger scene to much less debate, because it sits in our living room on our bookshelves. It is a small, quaint, rustic-looking stall, crude but charming -- and actually quite busy with sheep, shepherds, camels, wise men and two Jesus babies in a manger (one from another long-lost set, put there by our youngest).

When dad connects the lights at night and mom adds some appropriate seasonal foliage to cover the top of the stable, it gives our bookshelves a warm, wonderful holiday feel. All of a sudden the scene is reminiscent of the Currier and Ives holiday scenes we have grown familiar with. Primitive, yes, but in a warm pleasant sort of way. How could anyone object to this warm scene of family amid nature? What's all the fuss about?

My guess is that the fuss originates from folks who, while they don't believe a word of the story, have thought about it enough to be disturbed by its implications. And that's where I find myself -- for the first time -- disturbed by the implications.

Christmas is the day on which I celebrate the entrance of the eternal, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, all righteous, all holy and glorious God into my world. I should honestly stop and look at that scene of the baby Jesus in the manger, be disturbed by the implications and say, "What's wrong with this picture?"

The problem is, I've gazed upon the scene too long and become numb to it. I've seen it so often that I've stopped thinking about it. But this scene isn't normal. God wanted me to think about it. He didn't want me to view it as warm and quaint. He wanted me to be bewildered and confused, because in that confusion I think about the scene, rather than ignore it.

The words I have heard most often are the ones I am most in danger of becoming immune to. "Oh, that's the Christmas story," I recall, and then I start thinking about getting the lights out of the attic and picking out a Christmas tree. But this picture is all wrong! It screams out for explanation. The manger scene wasn't designed to put me in "the Christmas spirit," but to shake me to the roots of my soul.

Four words in this story simply don't compute. "This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger" (Luke 2:12). God, too glorious to look upon, whom Moses and Isaiah fell down on their faces before, is lying in a feeding trough? He from whom the cherubs hide their faces is beset by flies in a stable? If this story was just myth, we could ignore it. But this isn't myth, it is presented as fact, and that causes us to think.

"Lying in a manger." Four beautiful, magnificent, glorious words. There is far more meaning here than simply a place Jesus was laid. This is a parable from God in four words, a testament in wood and straw.

In these four words I'm startled to discover answers to the most pressing questions I deal with every day. There are several obvious reasons why the Christ child must be found lying in a manger.

A Sign to the Shepherds

Because of the census, Bethlehem was crowded with people. With all the babies that were present, how would these simple shepherds find the child they were seeking? Any baby would be wrapped in cloths, so that wouldn't narrow it down. The sign to the shepherds was that the baby would be lying in a manger. This would not be common or expected. The scene is unusual and designed to be perceived that way. So I try to imagine the shepherds entering Bethlehem, listening for a crying baby. If the sounds of a crying child came from a home or a mother's arms, they continued looking. How strange their activity must have seemed -- yet they were on a quest. They were searching for the promised sign -- a baby lying in a manger.

Finally, they found Mary and Joseph with Jesus just as it had been told them. There he was, lying in a manger. And when we come upon the carpenter and his young wife, we sense another reason for this sign. For as the scene was a promised sign to the shepherds, it was also a sign to the Christ child's earthly parents.

Confirmation

I can't help but imagine the plight of Mary and Joseph. Was this what Mary had envisioned when Elizabeth had prophesied that she would be greatly honored among women? Surely she didn't expect a parade, but did she expect this? Was her great faith challenged as she first entered the manger scene, exhausted from the long journey? Then her labor pains began -- a traumatic experience for anyone, much less a teen-age girl.

No woman is mentioned as being there to help her -- no midwife -- no family member, just Joseph and his wife, "celebrating" the arrival of the God child in a stable. I have a hard time believing that their first impression of this situation was one of instant understanding and celebration.

While I'm sure they didn't use these words, they might have been thinking, "What's wrong with this picture, God?" This Bethlehem inn was no Holiday Inn. It was a crude series of stalls, built inside an enclosure. It consisted of food for the animals and a fire to cook on. This was the part of the inn in which there was no room.

Despite her pregnancy, no one offered to give them their space. They ended up in what was most likely a carved-out cave, where hay mixed with animal waste littered the floor and the rank smell offended almost immediately.

There Mary went into labor, crying out in pain and fear, with Joseph her only attendant. It was a carpenter who most likely delivered God in the flesh as he came into our world, slippery with blood, reacting with cries as his warm body greeted the cold air. No manger scene recreates this reality.

Yet, in this moment, God sent shepherds to seek the lonely family out. When they arrived, they shared their angelic vision and the all-important sign -- a baby lying in a manger. Not in a palace or an ornate crib befitting the Son of God. Not even in a house. But outside, in a cold, lonely stable. The baby was right where he was supposed to be -- lying in a manger. Did Mary and Joseph sigh in relief?

Perhaps they needed to be reassured that their circumstances were holy to God. The plans hadn't gone wrong -- the promises hadn't been sidetracked. This was precisely the place God chose for his entrance into our world, wrapped up in swaddling cloths. Call it many things, but not expected. This less than grand entrance did not fit his person or his glory -- but I begin to see that it perfectly fit his purpose.

There Was No Room for God

It actually makes sense. When God returned to his creation, it wasn't fitting that bands play, parades march, choirs sing or trumpets proclaim the good news. Because it wasn't good news, not in this earthly neighborhood. He had long ago been exiled from our hearts and minds. There were no rulers willing to move over for him or to step down and make room for his sovereign Kingship. No palaces opened to him with welcoming arms.

Since there was no room for God in the world he had made, he entered the world in the place no one wanted, no one coveted, no one cared about, in a place no one would even notice. The God of the Universe greeted his first day of humanity lying in a manger, in a dug-out cave in Bethlehem.

Is there truly something wrong with this picture? If I didn't understand the love of God I would be forced to laugh. But instead I begin to sense a beautiful, simple, uncomplicated wisdom in this act. While I see him lying in a manger, I suddenly see something I'd never have understood otherwise.

Understanding A God's Humility

How could I have missed it before? How does an infinite, perfect God humble himself in a way I would understand? If he were to arrive in the company of thousands of angels, too glorious to look upon, descending from heaven in chariots of gold and precious jewels while the angels sang, "Holy, Holy, Holy is our God," he would still have been humbling himself, but I wouldn't have understood it. God wanted to humble himself in a way that even a common shepherd, or a child, or a tax-gatherer, or a fisherman, or a fallen woman, or a self-righteous Pharisee or I would understand. The message must not be missed. What better place to be found than "lying in a manger."

But if I look further, I discover yet another reason he had to be found lying in a manger.

Anyone Can Approach Him

Why hadn't it occurred to me? Common folks can't visit palaces of newborn kings uninvited. But kings and princes can visit mangers. So can bakers, weavers, wise men, shopkeepers, priests and children.

The Christ child was announcing in a dramatic way that he had come to be available. He was accessible. He hadn't come to isolate himself, but to mingle among his creation and to put himself at their disposal. All by simply being found lying in a manger!

The ornate Ark of the Covenant in the Old Testament housed the glory of the Lord. Yet, a feeding trough for beasts of burden held God in the flesh?

"Why?" we ask ourselves. Why indeed! For me!! God humbled himself before me so that I would realize there was nothing God wouldn't do to bring me into a relationship with him.

In this one act, he answered some of the greatest questions I have. Whenever I am tempted to blurt out, "Lord, you don't know what it's like to be humiliated like this," he points to the manger. Ah, now I understand -- he does! When I cry out in my heart, "Lord, I deserve better than this," he points me to the manger, and the scene reminds me that he suffered this indignity, too. When I tell God, "You see these injustices in my life -- you could change them -- you have the power," he agrees, but then he reminds me of the manger.

This isn't the stuff of Christmas cards. It is the stuff of transformation. Am I listening? Am I getting it? Can I return to my comfortable home and not ponder this wonder? Can I ever pass a large hospital with all the amenities society has to offer, or go into a hospital or home nursery, bright, clean, healthy and warm, and not marvel that my God lay in a manger?

Last night I passed my children's rooms with their warm beds and new toys scattered about, and I felt my eyes getting moist. "God help me," I said, "if I ever pass a baby store again, jammed full of the comforts available to offer my children and do not consider You, lying in a manger." What's wrong with this picture? Not a thing!

This was a precious sign to me, my God -- lying in a manger! 

Dan Schaeffer is the author of The Bush Won't Burn, and I'm all out of Matches, Discovery House.

25 Steps to Bethlehem "Mom, come here quick!" my five-year-old son, Sean, screamed from the living room. I sprinted up the stairs two steps at a time, my heart racing, my ears ringing, unprepared for what I might find. "Sean, what is it? Are you hurt? Is everyone okay?" "Mom, watch this. It's Stretch Armstrong. It is so cool. You can bend him. You can pull him. You can tie him in a knot. Buy that for me, Mom, please." "Oh, Mom," piped up my three-year-old son, Scott. "Look, it's a Star Wars Transformer. Buy that for me for Christmas." "Somehow my family has completely lost sight of the true meaning of Christmas." "I'll buy it for you, Scott," Sean volunteered, thoroughly captivated by the TV ad. "Honey," my husband called as he came through the front door. "I've thought of the perfect present for our moms and your dad. But I can't think of a thing to get my brother. Oh, and the Christmas cards aren't going to be done until Tuesday, so we can't start writing them until then." "Stop!" I yelled, surprising even myself. "Everybody freeze!" I felt somewhat like Our Town's Emily Gibbs as I stood gazing at my family in amazement. It was as if I were revisiting a scene, far removed from the characters and unable to change the action. "How did this happen?" I wondered. We go to church. We have daily devotion time. We pray together. Yet somehow my family had lost sight of the true meaning of Christmas. That was when my husband and I decided a change was needed. We agreed to begin activities on the first of December each year to focus our thoughts on Christ's birthday. Here is the itinerary for our spiritual pilgrimage to the humble manger in Bethlehem: 1 -- Begin the month by reading the Christmas story in the Gospels. 2 -- Make ornaments symbolic of Jesus and his birth, such as a fish, a cross, a star and a cradle. 3 -- Decorate the Christmas tree with each hand-made ornament. Have each family member describe the meaning of the symbol as they place it on the tree. 4 -- Buy Christmas presents for a child from Angel Tree (the children of prison inmates). Have your children imagine a Christmas without presents. 5 -- Bake cookies for someone who might otherwise be forgotten. Good candidates might be an elderly person, a prison inmate or a neighbor with no family. 6 -- Study the stars as the wise men did and talk about how ancient sailors used the stars to navigate. 7 -- While decorating the outside of the house with lights, consider the light that Jesus gives to the world. 8 -- Find a farm to visit. Go inside the barn and discuss the conditions there. This cold, dark setting would be similar to the atmosphere of the stable in Bethlehem. 9 -- Adopt a baby chick, kitten or bunny (or use a stuffed animal -- they're less messy). Discuss the miracle of birth and the tremendous gift of life. 10 -- Visit the petting zoo and try to find the animals that were present in the stable. Ride a donkey or similar animal if possible. 11 -- Talk about the preparations necessary for the arrival of a newborn. Gather the items needed to make the baby comfortable. 12 -- Make a baby book for Jesus tracing his family tree and listing his first visitors and gifts. 13 -- Have each child wrap his or her favorite toy as a present for God. Contrast how God came to us in the person of Jesus as the greatest gift of all. 14 -- Sing the song "Away in a Manger" by candlelight. 15 -- Memorize John 3:16. Discuss sacrificial love. 16 -- Go Christmas caroling with a church group or the neighbors. 17 -- Act out the story of Joseph and Mary being turned away from the inn. Have each child knock on various doors in the house and practice asking for admittance. 18 -- Plant seeds in an indoor garden and discuss the life that will grow. 19 -- Drive through the neighborhood and count the number of people living in each house on the block. Try to guess how much each house would cost. Explain that the reason Joseph and Mary went to Bethlehem was to register for the census, a count of the population and a property evaluation in the Roman Empire. 20 -- Discuss how Jesus was given his name by an angel even before he was conceived. Look through books that describe biblical meanings of names. Pick names that fit each family member's personality. 21 -- Put together a collection of Christian Christmas music and play it while wrapping presents. 22 -- Bake a birthday cake for Jesus. 23 -- Make invitations and decorate the house with balloons for Jesus' birthday party. 24 -- On Christmas Eve, put up a small tent and use stuffed animals to represent the manger scene. Find a tape of animal noises. Tear up paper bags to make straw. Sleep in the stable, on the straw, surrounded by the animals and their noises, and remember that night long ago. 25 -- Celebrate Jesus' birthday! Sing "Joy to the World." Emphasize that the Lord has come and reflect on how we have received him. Write thank-you notes to God for the fantastic gift he gave us. -- Linda Wakefield Kelley

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