Christmas Imagination or Carnal Ignorance?
The woodsy smell of pine intoxicates me as I breathe in wintry air. The slushy snow makes satisfying slurps each time I lift a boot. My sister, several steps ahead, has slowed her pace. She looks around. The forest is dark now, so we keep our hands in front of us to feel the way. Like Narnia’s magic wardrobe, the densely packed trees brush past us on every side.
Soon, the wolves begin to howl, and my sister says we must find shelter. They circle us from all directions, throats a-rumble. Beady eyes seem to multiply in the darkness. There’s no time to think—no room to run. We scramble to the closest tree, up we go, another branch or two for safety.
“Can wolves climb trees,” I ask my sister? She doesn't know, so we climb higher until we are near the top. The starry night glistens off the forest canopy and we tremble with the evening chill. The wolves are in the open now, salivating, circling the ground beneath us. There must be dozens, drawn to our hiding perch by the scent of human flesh.
A sudden gale sways our tree—first one way, then another—until the wintry winds prevail. We hear a loud and sickening crack beneath us as the roots of our tree fail to hold in the frozen soil. We tumble, first in slow motion, then faster and faster toward the ground. I’m staring into the jaws of a hungry wolf. And then. . . SNAP!
We are two small children sprawled on the living room floor amidst a mess of artificial pine needles and shattered ornaments. Christmas presents are scattered in disarray with many of the boxes crushed. A magical sea of tangled lights surrounds us like Fantasia. And our frantic mother bustles from the kitchen as we fail to stifle our giggles. We are merely children once again with those vicious wolves banished to our imagination. We can’t really explain the meaning of the tree, the ornaments, the lights, or the presents. We just know that’s how we celebrate Christmas every year, so we enjoy it. We explore it. We are innocent with delight. We are ignorant in our childhood bliss.
***
Another child also takes center stage as we recall that very first Christmas. The Son of God lies cradled in a manger—an infant formed in human likeness. The angels hold their breath in wonder, while the starry skies look down to see him sleeping on the hay. But don’t tell me he doesn’t cry whenever he gets hungry or that he doesn’t squirm when his swaddled clothes begin to chafe. The worshipers bowing down before him simply smell like sheep, and he is unaware of the wise men on their way. He has no business proposal to make this nativity scene a “must have” in every Yuletide window. He’s not trying to win the village decorating contest. He’s just a baby—a human child. He is innocent and happily ignorant of the darkness which encroaches.
Yet the Great Storykeeper remembers how this tale must be told. For our Creator ordained this moment from before time first began. And his imagination shapes reality. As a proud Father, he looks upon his Son with loving eyes and dreams about those plans they made together in eternity past: “This boy, my Son, will take away the sins of the world. And they will call him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”
Then, one day, the Son himself, would realize what that first Christmas was all about as his earthly parents teach him about the Scriptures and the angelic declaration. The Christ child would learn his place in the Father’s plan as Redeemer of the world. For in his day, the howling wolves cared not he was a child. Nor would their hatred wane as he grew in wisdom and in stature. They would continue circling. Until one day, our Savior, being found in humble form, became obedient to the point of death—even death on a tree! He would fall to the ground and take our place when he went willingly to the wolves. As our sacrifice, he was innocent, yet surely not ignorant of the price for freedom.
So, year after year, we celebrate Christmas not as a pagan holiday or to excuse our shameless materialism. Each year, this day marks our Savior’s birth as a human child revered by kings and shepherds. This day ushers divine imagination into our reality.
Yet have we learned the meaning of that first Christmas? Or do we still cling to ignorance?
Do the decorations and bright lights reserve a place more special in our memories than the coming of the Christ child?
Do holiday dinners or football games take precedence over awestruck worship?
Does the bustle of holiday shopping replace our desire to share the eternal gift which Jesus gave to us?
Imagine that first Christmas when the center of it all was a baby in a manger. Then, like children, let us come to him by faith, rejoicing in our innocence and refusing to be ignorant.