God's Girl

Finding the extraordinary in the ordinary

The Ghost of Christmas Past

I love the Christmas story. What an adventure! Seriously, this story has everything you need. Talk about twists and turns!
A pregnant girl doomed to disgrace. Will she have to die or be banished from town?
A scorned man who had every right to demand justice. Instead he tries to do the right thing.
An angel visits.
Everything changes.

Shepherds living in the fields with their sheep.
The youngest.
The lowliest.
Dirty.
Smelly.
Every day the same as the one before.
Angels fill the sky.
Everything changes.

Remember when Scrooge is whisked away to Christmas past in A Christmas Carol? Well, I want to be whisked away too.
I wish I knew what it was like for Mary to find out she was pregnant or for Joseph when he first heard the news. How did Mary’s parents react for heaven’s sake?
I want to sit in the grass with the shepherds. I want to know their stories and see their faces when the angels come.
What would it have been like to be in Bethelehem? To sit in the stable?
I wish the Christmas story had more details. I have so many questions.
Every good story develops its characters so that we can identify with them, cheer them on or route against them.
Not this one. Why? Why not an in-depth story of Christmas instead of a fly by description? Maybe because this isn’t a story with fictional characters. It’s an event. An event that happened long ago. One that no matter how hard I try, I can’t completely comprehend in a place and time I can’t relate to.
I have learned that I won’t know every detail this side of heaven.
That’s ok.
I know the most important part.

God, creator of all.
God, master of all.
The Alpha and the Omega.
The beginning and the end.
Came for all.
He became Emmanuel.
God with us.

We need a God who knows our sorrow, our pain, our joys and our triumph first hand.
That’s important, but that is not all we need.
We need a savior, so that our story won’t be the end.
God came down.
He came to save you. He came to save me.
He put on flesh and died on a cross, not simply to relate to us, but to dwell in us.
In the face of this good news, all the details just pale in comparison.
My own story pales in comparison to His, so does yours.
It’s not really about me.
It’s not really about you.
It’s all about Him.
We are all minor characters in His major story.
The details of our story may not be remembered forever, but He uses us everyday so his name will be.
Truth is everyone involved in this event was priviledged, but so are we as we play our part in History.

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