It can be hard for me to focus on Jesus at Christmastime.  Sounds ridiculous, huh?  But with so many other things demanding attention, or at least making me think my attention is required, and with the added stress that I always feel at this time of year (somehow, for all of the preparation I think I get done in early October, all organization and preparedness seems to fall apart right about now), any attempts to adjust my focus to the Lord usually just make me feel so distant from where I should be in my time, attention and affections.

I wonder if I’m failing my kids because I can’t seem able to adequately convey the magnitude of what that first Christmas morning meant for us, for humanity.  I find myself thinking that, maybe, God’s not going to be too interested in showing up to our less-than-perfectly-thought-through celebration.  Or that He’ll find our invitation for Him to draw near perhaps not entirely sincere when it inadvertently gets relegated to a to-do list…not because it isn’t most important, but simply because I know my tendency to sometimes fumble my priorities when life gets hectic.

So in the midst of the foggy chaos that has been my brain the past few weeks (or maybe longer, if I’m being honest) God has been drawing my attention to the nativity story.  More specifically to the stable.  And even more specifically, to Mary in the stable.  I imagine that when Gabriel visited Mary and told her that she would give birth to “the Son of the Most High”, it probably never entered her mind that the birth would happen amidst the dirt and straw and smells of a stable.  Did she have a thought, as she realized that the time for giving birth had come, that she should have been more prepared?  It couldn’t have been completely unexpected…did she ever worry that she was failing God by not having made reservations at the inn, or anywhere, just in case?  Did she wonder whether God would think that she had made this great responsibility an afterthought to the more immediate, tangible cares of life?

I don’t know what she thought.  But I know this: God came near – in the stable, in the dirt and straw, in the middle of life’s other responsibilities.  He wasn’t waiting for Mary to be perfectly prepared.  He had no expectations of pomp and fanfare, pristine surroundings or a life put on hold.  And he wasn’t ashamed of the humble surroundings into which He came.  Angels celebrated His entrance, a star spotlighted His presence in that stable.  Whether or not Mary found it acceptable to welcome the Son of God into the mess of life, God made it clear that He was okay with it.

And, I think, He’s okay coming into my mess, too.  I mean, I guess it should be obvious.  He came because life is a mess.  He came because even my best efforts can’t make my heart pure enough, or my life clean enough, or my world perfect enough.  And maybe that’s part of the reason He came to the stable in the first place – to let Mary and mankind know that He’s not put off by messes and inadequacy and real life.

At the very least, that stable has been a welcome reminder to me lately.  I know I shouldn’t be surprised by His goodness, His irreproachable character, and His limitless love.  But I still am.  What an amazing God.