Musings on Christmas

Sometimes the Christmas story just sounds too much like that: a story.  It's got a setting, principal and secondary characters, a plot, a climax, a resolution that leaves room for a sequel.  Sometimes I fall into the routine around this time of year and even get swept along by the whole glorified aspect of the baby Jesus born to a virgin to save the world thing.  It sounds like it could be a movie, too, and guaranteed there are hundreds of movies out there about this very theme.  Approaching it cynically, it's enough to make one wonder about the validity and even the meaning of Christmas.  But what I need to remember is the fact that no matter how often human beings take this story and make it even more of a story, appealing to the general audience, it's more than just a story.

It happened.

Perhaps not on December 25, but still it happened.  Perhaps not with Mary riding into Bethlehem on a mule and pausing at different homes, taking her time to ask every single person if they could spare a room for the night, but it still happened.  Perhaps not with exactly three wise men or los tres reyes magos like we always see and have grown used to seeing, but still it happened.  Perhaps not with everyone lined up neatly around the manger in picture perfect lighting, baby Jesus sleeping silently in a pile of clean hay and tidy swaddling cloths, but still it happened.

In fact, we tend to glorify this event so much.  We forget that Mary was just a teenager, and probably freaked out of her mind for multiple reasons: a) she witnessed an angel come to her and tell her she would be pregnant (how many people see angels, again?), b) she was pregnant at a young age, c) she was pregnant by means that had nothing to do with normal conception, and d) she wasn't even married to Joseph at this point.  We forget that Joseph probably assumed that Mary had been unfaithful to him at first, and that he was probably furious with her for a little while before an angel also came to him and told him what was going on.  We also forget that Mary was very pregnant when she had to travel with Joseph to Bethlehem for the census, that they probably didn't have a mule available to them and they had to walk the entire way across treacherous terrain and probably without proper footwear (sandals, anyone?).  We forget that Mary could have begun to contract at any point during her arrival in Bethlehem and simply would not have had the time to amble around with Joseph looking for a neat little inn, and that odds are she just ducked into the nearest stable because nobody was willing to take in a stranger.  We forget that there were no painkillers.

We forget that this, in fact, definitely did not occur on December 25, since the fact that all the sheep were out in their pastures at night lends to the thought that it was probably springtime and mating season for them.  We forget that hundreds, if not thousands, of shepherds and magi who traversed miles to be able to see the Savior of the world in baby form.  We forget that King Herod tried to use this whole sequence of events to murder the child so that he would not overthrow Herod's reign (even though this was never Jesus's intention, since His kingdom "is not of this world" [John 18:38]) and in fact ordered all children under the age of two to be executed in order to try to avoid this possibility.

We forget that Jesus, though He was born entirely God, was also born entirely human, and human babies cry.  A lot.  We forget that a manger is a feeding trough, usually for pigs, and not the most sanitary location for a newborn baby.  We forget that Mary may or may not have anticipated Jesus's birth on this journey and therefore may or may not have thought to have brought clean cloths to wrap him in; in fact, from such a long journey, they were probably as dirty and sweat-ridden as she and Joseph, and the cloths may have been taken from their own backs.  We forget that Mary and Joseph probably hadn't eaten much of anything and had hardly slept any up to this point.

We forget why Jesus was even born to begin with.  We forget that God created humans and loved them as His favorite part of all creation, and yet we with our free will decided that we wanted to go our own way apart from God, and not live in relationship with Him, not listen to Him, not have anything to do with Him.  We forget that a rift created by such "sin" (anything that "misses the mark" of God's absolute perfection and relationship with Him, like a bullseye in a target) can only be filled and bridged by a deep, personal sacrifice of some sort, and that for centuries humans tried to make up for it with their own perfect animal blood sacrifices.  We forget that love came down to Earth, that God so loved the world that He gave the world Himself as His son that we might forever live with Him and be in perfect relationship again with Him through an absolutely perfect, eternal sacrifice to trump all others (John 3:16).  We forget that, ultimately, this is why Jesus was born: to die one of the worst deaths, if not the worst death, that humanity has ever recorded.

We forget that all of this is more than a story: It's history.  And we forget that grace is not just a gift given for the whole of humanity, but that it's also personal.  It's for me.  And it's for you.  He loves me.  And He loves you.  He loves you.  You.  Just as you are.  You, with all your imperfections.  You, with all your problems.  You, with all your unfulfilled goals and dreams and wishes.  You, not because of anything you've ever done or ever will do.  You, simply because you are.  Simply because He chooses to love you, because He thinks you're wonderful and marvelous and lovely and an incredible nuance of creation.

Let's consider this aspect reality of Christmas a little more, shall we?

Pegado a Dios

(Note: some of this will be written in Spanish because of the connections.  I will translate it in parentheses, even though it sounds better in Spanish.)

While it's perhaps not the greatest analogy and perhaps not the best situation, I was hit with the realization yesterday of how much bachata dancing (or any similar dance) relates to a relationship with God.  Not in the sense that it's sensual, or anything like that.  Allow me to explain:

When dancing bachata, the closer you are, the better, generally speaking.  It's a lot easier to follow the person who is leading you the closer you are, because you can relax into the movement of your partner's body and feel where he wants to go and what he wants to do next.  In fact, when the two partners dance pegados (that is, stuck together), that is when it is the easiest to detect what moves the other partner wants to do, and that is when it is the easiest to follow, and also when it's the most enjoyable because of the fact that it's simply just requires the willingness to follow.

There's a song that Jesús Adrián Romero does called "Pegado a Ti" (stuck to You) that completely relates to this theme.  Basically, the closer we get to God, the better we are able to detect where He wants us to God and what He wants us to do.  We can hear Him speak more clearly; His voice is more audible to us over the noise of the world around us.  In fact, when we are pegado a Dios (stuck to God) as though we were dancing bachata, that is when it is the easiest to know where He wants to lead us and when it's the most enjoyable, because all we have to do is just follow Him.  It can be kind of scary simply giving over to His lead and following, and sometimes we don't know the steps very well that He wants us to take and follow because they are new to us.  But the more we dance with Him, the better equipped we are to keep following and keep dancing.  The bottom line is that it requires a constant decision to trust God.  It's not a one-time "yes, I'll follow You this time for this step," because if it were that way, the dance would stop in the middle.  It's a constant decision to keep dancing and following Him and His steps.

I could keep going on and making connections but I think you get the point, dear Reader.

It's been hard for me very recently to keep trusting God and following Him.  It's been difficult to remain pegado because some recent happenings have just had me so strongly desiring to not dance so closely, out of pain, out of fear, out of anger/bitterness.  But the truth is that this is when I need to cling even tighter to Him, because quite honestly I don't know the steps on my own for this dance, and even if I did, in any dance it's not good for the follower to resist the lead.  It messes up the whole dance and results in a dance that doesn't come close to what it could have been.

Proverbs 3:5-6 = "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

To die daily to pride

Little by little I am learning here in Spain (I'm studying abroad; click here for blog updates on that!) that sometimes it is much better to simply keep my mouth shut.  Of course I need to practice the language.  Of course not speaking is not how friendships are made.  But I asked God to humble me before coming here, and He is doing just that, and as much as I am not liking it in the moment, He is faithful and I am grateful that He is.  I am indeed learning a lot.  And I am realizing more and more each day that it is crucial that I die daily to pride.

Pride is an awful sin (sin = anything that "misses the mark" of God's perfection, if we deem God's perfection to be the perfect center and bullseye of our target), and probably the sneakiest as my friend Carli pointed out last night.  Instead of glorifying God, we glorify ourselves.  When we do things, we do them to build ourselves up instead of build up God's kingdom.  And the thing is, everyone is prideful to some degree.  Yes, even you.

Pride isn't always just "I'm better than you", thought it certainly is.  Pride is also "I'm glad I'm not you."  Pride is also "At least I'm not like him" and is also "At least I don't do that."  Pride is also "I don't need your help."  Pride is also "I know I'm right and I'm not backing down from arguing with you."  Pride is also "I refuse to x because I don't want people to think I am y."  Pride is also "Why is this happening to me of all people?"

It's not hanging around people who are "beneath you."  It's not listening to the advice of others because it's contrary to what you might be stubborn about.  It's not admitting to being wrong.  It's talking about your own experiences as a means to "one-up" someone else.  It's correcting others about every mistaken detail, no matter how minute.  It is measuring yourself against others.  Proverbs 18:2 = "Fools find no pleasure in understanding but delight in airing their own opinions."  How many times have I been a victim to becoming a fool now?

It's in all of this that I find myself mixed up and falling short of the humility I desire to have in my relationships with other people.  It's in my daily life here in Spain that I find my eyes being opened more and more every passing moment to my depravity and my own struggles with pride, something that I only started becoming aware of last summer and that I have only recently begun to realize is more than just a surface issue.  Pride is never just a surface issue with a quick fix: It is rooted in the heart.  It's like a disease, one we came into from the Fall, and eliminating symptoms doesn't treat the disease itself.

Because of the Fall, mankind is naturally selfish.  But thanks to the Passion, mankind is supernaturally redeemed.  Jesus is the cure for the disease.

1 Corinthians 8:1b = "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up."

For me, the struggle has never been recognizing that everyone, and I mean everyone, has sinned, and sins daily, including myself.  It has never been, for me, realizing that we humans are all on an even playing field and that no one is better than anyone else.  Rather, it's knowing that the things I say and do stem from a "need" to be acknowledged and validated by others.  It's knowing that having a say in every little thing and proving people wrong puts me on the throne where Jesus belongs.  It's knowing that honestly, if I am a true servant of the Most High God, I should see my reputation and abilities and opinions and priority, when it comes down to it, as below that of everyone else's.  You first, not me.

That is love.

And for me, a lot of this starts with being slow to speak and quick to listen, like my friend Aurora who has been an incredible example to me in the past week.  As Proverbs 17:28 says, "Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues."  It doesn't mean that I stay silent all the time, but rather that I carefully consider what I am about to say and ask myself the purpose is of the words that are about to leave my mouth.  Most of all, it means I spend more time in prayer and that I allow God to continue working in my heart, and that I not move in the opposite direction or act as dead weight but rather move towards the direction He would have me move in.

What is it for you, dear Reader?  Where do you struggle with pride?  Where is it affecting your relationships?  What steps can you take in these areas?