When Jesus made his debut in Bethlehem, as opposed to Jerusalem, it was not just about ticking the prophetic box or demonstrating humility (Bethlehem was to the other cities of Israel, what the manger was to the other cribs at the time,) or even because the Roman emperor had decreed it. There was a very practical reason for Jesus to be born in such a place.
It might have been more fitting for Jesus, being a king, to have been born in a palace. But the palace, like every room in Bethlehem, was occupied. And those who occupy palaces are possessively protective of them. 
Perhaps you’ve heard a missionary return from a developing country in chastened awe, reporting that people living on $1 a day were cheerfully generous with what little they had, insisting that the well-nourished Western guest eat the biggest and best portions. 
In many places throughout history you’d be better off depending on the camaraderie of the poorest people in that place than the generosity of the wealthiest ones. It’s easier to catch a ride in a crowded minivan than it is to catch a ride in a spacious limousine. 
Jesus came to Bethlehem and not the palace because Bethlehem was the sort of place where you could expect people to scoot over and make a little room. Not so the palace.
If you’re ever surprised to find Jesus among people whose company you yourself would not keep, or surprised at his conspicuous absence among the people you admire, bear this in mind. People who scoot, who make room, who set an extra place (even when they can only do it metaphorically because they lack a table and place settings) are the sort of people to whom Jesus comes. He is an opportunistic Savior. 
Let us be hospitable people, and let us, like our Savior, aspire less to the palaces where we’re not wanted than to the places where we might have a place. 

Matthew 8:20

Prayer: Lord, if I have not been hospitable please forgive me. If I am reluctant to scoot down and make room, help me remember that it might be, in some sense, you I am making room for. And help me to be someone who is content with whatever places you make for me. There’s a part of me that’s always whispering that I belong in the “palace.” wherever that is. Help me to make that part of me shut up and stay quiet. 

Song: I love Wilder Adkins! And this version of “Royal David’s City” shows all the reasons why I appreciate him so much. It is a fresh arrangement of the traditional carol, but it is so sweet and earnest that it does not feel like a calculated attempt at novelty at all. And what a carol it is! (I also love the artwork!)

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If Jesus showed up at a party that you were attending and someone tried to “kidnap” him in broad daylight, by putting a possessive hand on his elbow and trying to steer him around the room while monopolizing his time and attention, we don’t have to wonder how he would handle that. 
He’s not easily manipulated or controlled, this Jesus of ours. He never has been. 
When he was a religious celebrity in Judea the religious leaders were always there wanting to tie him up in the sort of tricky theological discussions that they loved. He gave them brief answers that made them angry and that freed him up to spend time with real people. 
When his disciples turned children away to prevent them making a claim on Jesus for blessings, Jesus had none of it. He rebuked the gatekeepers and made room for the children.
And when he came as a baby he demonstrated that he would not be the possession of Herod for violence, the possession of the magi for purposes of government, the possession of the shepherds for validation, or even the possession of his parents for progeny. 
Be assured, dear friend, that Jesus has come for you. He does not belong to some group of special people. He doesn’t need to satisfy someone else’s demands before he can attend to your own private needs. He is for you and with you and no one else, however privileged he appears to be, can come between you and the Jesus who has sought you out.

Matthew 19:13-14

Prayer: Help me to remember, Lord, that the self-appointed gatekeepers are no threat to my place in your heart or in your Kingdom. That’s hard for me because of my insecurities, I admit, but I believe that you can make me confident. And, while we’re at it, please forgive me for any time that I was a self-appointed gatekeeper myself and prevent me from ever doing that in the future.

Song: Part of the reason I love “O Christ, Draw Near” is because of Taylor Leonhardt’s vocals. But what I really love and appreciate are the earnest lyrics. I have been hugged so fiercely by someone I love so deeply that I have wished that the hug could succeed in squeezing the two of us into one inseparable unit. In Bethlehem, God initiated such an embrace and at Christmas we squeeze a little tighter in anticipation of that day when the work of the great hug will be complete.

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Jesus’ brother James makes a big deal about the sin of showing favoritism in his letter. He calls out the sort of church leader, for instance, who would show well dressed people to the best seats when they show up for a worship service, while keeping the poorly dressed people on the uncomfortable margins. It’s scripture, but you also get the impression that for James it’s personal. 
It’s a family value, it seems. 
If Jesus was a high school student, it’s hard to imagine him gravitating toward the cool kid’s table in the lunchroom.
If Jesus was at a game, it’s hard to imagine him watching it from the owner’s box. 
Jesus is not impressed with the things that impress us.
Prophecy required that Jesus’ parents have a royal pedigree. But Jesus' mission required that they not have a royal lifestyle. How good it is to have a Savior like this who comes and sits at our table not to make a point or to demonstrate his noble largesse, but for the simple reason that he wants to be with us.

Revelation 3:20

Prayer - I repent, Jesus, of all the ways in which I am a respecter of persons. You have not shown favoritism or you would not have made yourself my friend. So help me not to show favoritism any more than you do. 

Song - I love the line in “Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella,” that says “Jesus is born to the folk of the village.” Not born to the upper echelons of society, to the elite and the influencers. Born to the folk of the village. Savor that. 

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When there’s a natural disaster, I’m almost tempted to feel more sympathy for the President than for the people whose homes were washed away. If he goes to the devastated community and dons a ridiculous hardhat for his inspection of the destruction, or fills a few sandbags in front of the cameras, he will be accused of grandstanding and of being cynically superficial in his concern. And if he stays at the White House to direct the relief efforts from there he will be accused of being out of touch and detached and of being insufficiently devoted to the welfare of the people. 
It’s kind of a no-win situation for him.
Consider, in light of that, the choices that God made in response to our unrelenting disaster. He did not content himself with such steps as he could take from heaven. He did not rely on angels to act on his behalf at a distance. 
But neither did he go with the photo op. He didn’t signal his virtue with a well choreographed visit. 
He went all in. 
Can you imagine a President delegating the official response to someone else and using his vacation time to go to the flood zone and descend into moldy basements with a shovel and his sleeves rolled up, a long way from any cameras? When it came to our disaster, Jesus took everything seriously but his own prerogatives. 
Having such a Savior should shape our own responses to the disasters around us. None of us can do everything that needs doing. And we all have to have boundaries. But let us be all in on redemption.

Hebrews 12:1-3

Prayer: Jesus, I thank you for the selfless way in which you threw yourself into the business of my redemption. When it comes to the disasters around me, help me not to be content with delegated virtue or photo ops. Help me to love in the same way that you do.

Song: The version of “O Come All Ye Faithful” by husband and wife band Johnnyswim is sweet without being saccharine. This traditional carol is heavy on the mandate. It is more imperative than pleading. Do it. Come and adore Him.

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She didn’t know CPR or first aid. In fact, she didn’t know about the existence of germs or viruses or the principles of infection. She didn’t have running water at home. She seldom bathed. Certainly she meant well and had good impulses, but I wouldn’t have hired her to care for my baby in my own home, much less hers. 
And that Mary is the one to whom God entrusted the care of his one and only Son. If she took folic acid and listened to Baby Mozart during her pregnancy, Luke fails to mention it. 
And, from our perspective, Mary looks very primitive. We imagine that we would have been superior surrogate parents for the Christ child in every way. We would have been able to give him better medical care, immunizations, disposable diapers, and a proper diet. Infant mortality, it is true, has never been lower than it is now. 
But Jesus would have been no safer with us than he was with Mary, and no more at risk for harm. He was always going to die, but he was never going to die as a baby. 
The truth is that Jesus would never be safe with any of us, and that he did not come to be safe but to be a Savior. 

Matthew 4:5-7

Prayer: Jesus, forgive me for ever thinking that you were safe with me, or, worse, if I ever thought that I might be safe without you. And help me to think confidently about the rough people and rough situations that I might introduce you to, as I do not have a fragile Savior.

Song: “Light of the World” by We The Kingdom, is another new song but I can’t help wanting to share it with you. We’ll keep writing and singing new songs about the first Advent until the wonderful day of the second Advent.

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December 11
It’s a scandal that Jesus came to sinners. And really, it does nothing to lessen the scandal when you consider that there was no one else to come to. 
Jesus did not just have the purity of infancy. His was the purity of the sinless and divine Son of God. He was the pure white field of new snow on which no muddy boot had yet trampled a path. And he showed up where everything was muddy boots and heedless tramplers.
And for all that, not only did he come to sinners in their sin, but he came happily. There was no reluctance, no hedging, no prissy pinching of the nose. He did not show up as God at arm’s length, but Emmanuel - God With Us.

Luke 19:10

Prayer: Lord, help me to take to heart the fact that you have come to me to take your place in my heart and in my life though I have been a sinner. Make me aware of the scandal of it in a way that does more to heighten my gratitude than it does to stir up my shame. And help me to be just as “scandalous” in the loving way that I approach other sinners.

Song: This version of “I Heard the Bells” by Sleeping at Last does a good job of catching all the pathos of this carol which absorbs with serious reflection the persistent reality of a world that is contrary to the promise of the incarnation and then proceeds to a resolute conviction about the ultimate victory of the promise.

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Jesus was not quarterbacking his own birth. The Father arranged with Mary and Joseph for this to happen. The Holy Spirit came upon Mary and she conceived Jesus. And then it was up to them to care for him in utero. It was up to Mary to eat well and take care of herself. It was up to Joseph to get them to Bethlehem. Jesus put himself in a position where it would be up to others to get him safely delivered, to cut the umbilical cord, to keep him warm and safe in those critical hours. 
It seems an awfully risky thing, considering why and how badly we needed redeeming, to give us a role in the accomplishment of that redemption. 
But it’s not an indication of how careless or sloppy Jesus was about his incarnation that he afforded us a role to play in it. As it turns out, it’s kind of a theme with him. I wouldn’t say Jesus trusts us. He shouldn’t. 
But he involves us and gives us real, meaningful roles to play in the unfolding of his Kingdom. 
Maybe it’s like when you invite a child to help you make the Christmas cookies. It’s not that you think the four year old is a good cook. But you believe yourself to be a good enough cook to compensate. You expect that you can fish out the pieces of egg shell. And that it’s worth it.
He believes we’re worth it!

1 Corinthians 12:12-13

Prayer: Lord, I thank you for making use of Mary and Joseph. More than that I admire you for the way that you put yourself in their hands. It motivates me to trust you at least as much as you ever trusted them. Forgive me for the times I have not trusted you and help me to do better.

Song: Come and Stand Amazed, by Citizens.  Citizens was one of the “house” bands at Mars Hill Church in the Pacific Northwest. The music from these bands and that church is complicated for us by the fact that Mars Hill was an unhealthy and even toxic church and thousands of people are still grappling with the legacy of abuse and trauma that they experienced there. And yet, these lyrics do an amazing job of capturing all of the paradoxical things about Jesus’ arrival in Bethlehem and listening to you can’t help being moved.

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Earlier this week I was in a coffee shop in Rutland with a friend and overheard a conversation at the next table. Two put together women in professional attire were comparing notes on an event they'd recently attended at a church. I couldn't tell if it was a funeral or a wedding, but the important thing was that communion was served at this event. 
"I don't get it," the one woman said, taking a sip of her latte. "Is it supposed to be, like, mock cannibalism or something." They both laughed and the conversation moved on.
I did feel some indignation, it's true. That charge of cannibalism is old and has served as the justification for all sorts of violence toward believers. It made it easier for the Romans to cheer when Christians were thrown to the lions, for instance. 
But my indignation was quickly replaced with something else. I felt a thrill of potential here.
Imagine a flooded landscape. The water rose at some time in the past, rose all the way up the slopes, eventually submerging the peaks and kept rising. That's a picture of the Western World, of what was once thought of as "Christendom." The success of Christianity in the West meant, ironically, that if your boat had a shallow keel you could float over all the jagged pinnacles of the faith. Because everyone knew about communion, because everyone had taken communion, because it was such a given, no one had to think much about communion. 
Ever since the Enlightenment the water has been draining from the West and that process has accelerated in the last fifty years to the point where some of the previously submerged peaks are now glistening again in the sunlight. The civil authorities are putting their buoys up to warn off those in danger of crashing on the rocks. 
Now the mountains in this metaphor neither shrink nor grow. The change of water level gives them the appearance of rising out of the water, but it's an illusion. the mountains do not change. In the same way, the weird things about the Christian faith were no less weird when everyone accepted them than they are now when a startled world discovers them in their arresting and stark oddness. 
A God who died.
A God who, before he died, went through gestation.
Sinners going under the water and coming out a new creation.
People voluntarily giving a tenth of their income to God.
Belief in heaven and hell.
And, yes, eating bread representing a broken body, and drinking from a cup representing the shed blood of a Jewish rabbi we believe to be the Son of God.
That's some weird stuff.
And all this weirdness is perfectly consistent with belief in a supernatural God who redemptively loves his creation.
I think that we, as believers, can be pleased that the receding waters have exposed the crags of our faith. We shouldn't be embarrassed by them or try to strip them of their weirdness, explaining away every odd detail. 
The buoys put out to warn away the voyagers of this age will have the effect of drawing some. Some people are weary of drifting on a sea of shifting waves and long to plant their feet on something solid, even if it's weird. Especially if it's weird. Let's meet them on the slopes of the holy mountains on which they wash up. And when we meet them there in the weird places where time and eternity intersect, let's not greet them with apologies and sheepish explanations, but with a hearty welcome.

There are people who can slip into a room unseen, and who make a very light impression, if they make one at all. 
And then there are people with such charisma that, even though they are doing nothing to draw attention to themselves, get the attention of everyone in the room as soon as they step into it. The very atmosphere of the room changes with their arrival. 
And I can’t figure out which category Jesus belongs in. On the one hand, he’s the light of the world, and what could be more magnetic than that?
But on the other hand, Isaiah tells us that he had “no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” There are times in the gospels that he is the center of attention. And there are times that he seems invisible to the crowd until he says something to provoke them. 
Even at his birth, Jesus was neither quite the center of attention nor the wallflower in the background. And following him still means paying close attention. He may come into a situation like balls of fire. Or you may, after looking for him intently for some time, discover that he’d been in the situation all along, keeping his peace. So pay attention and let Jesus be Jesus.

Prayer: Jesus I want to be alert to your arrival and presence, but I’m afraid I might miss you. You could so easily slip into my blind spot. So make me attuned to you and help me to welcome you whenever and wherever and however you show up.

Song: “Make the Gates All Wide” by Swedish musician A Treehouse Wait invites us to remove barriers and make room for Jesus on his own terms.

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Much is made of the humble circumstances of Jesus’ birth, and rightly so. It would be extraordinary that God should humble himself to the condition of human infancy, even if that human infant was wrapped in purple linen and placed in the palace’s finest bed. But swaddling clothes? A manger? A makeshift “nursery?”
And the humility of it all is made so explicit that it seems like it must be the point. Jesus would brook no half-measures. He’d come to play a critical role and he wasn’t going to mumble any of his lines. If he was to be one of us then he’d be such a one as any one of us might relate to. If he was going to die for us he was going to suffer such a death as would kill any one of us. And if he was going to be a Savior he was going to provide such a salvation as would save any one of us.
Let us follow him in the same manner in which he has led us - without half-measures, wholeheartedly, with the sort of commitment that leaves nothing back. 

John 3:16

Prayer: I have often been guilty of hedging when it comes to you. I’ve obeyed, yes, but often in such a way that I was comforted by the knowledge that disobedience was still an option. Help me to be as radically saved as Jesus was radically human.

Song: This version of “Cradle Hymn,” the words of which were written by Isaac Watts is from what may be the most played Christmas album in the Tate home. The song is addressed to a sleeping baby and compares the condition of that child with the Christ child. But any of us who are struggling to sleep and being weighed down by a burden of care might imagine this song being sung to us. 

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