The Classic Christmas Card

A Classic Christmas Card
Thank you Friend.

I can’t remember when traditional Christmas Cards went out of fashion.  I’d say it was about 20 years ago but I can’t be sure because at that time my family left the backwoods of Canada and ventured to a major US city.  So I’m unclear if Christmas cards disappeared or if somewhere in the country people still exchange real Christmas cards replete with stars, the city of David and the odd camel caravan.  In my world however, they were swallowed by the box retailers’ tradition of sending cards composed of a collage of family pictures accompanied by a seasonal greeting.  I’m courting trouble writing this, because many of my friends send these types of family cards and there is no way to say this without it being uncomfortable.  I don’t prefer this type of Christmas card.  It isn’t that I don’t like you, please understand, but your card makes me feel…peculiar.  I would put you in my living room except that I don’t want you staring at me from your timeshare in the Bahamas as I walk through my living room in my pajamas with my hair all skookum. It’s awkward for both of us. Likewise I would put you on my fridge but frankly the sight of you in your swimsuit at the beach kind of vexes me and makes rooting in the fridge for snacks a lot less enjoyable.  I appreciate your dog is still alive but frankly I’m still surprised how much money you spent on the little beggar in the first place and I suspect he gets his hair done more than I do and I fear if we discuss these things we are going hit ground I don’t think our relationship can hold.  You can see how these new cards drag my mind to the present and focus my minimal attention upon the appearance of others’ lives.  It’s difficult territory for me.

The snail mail cards of long ago were marvelous; I have fond memories of those cards.  It was a time when glitter was merely an accent, saved for the Bethlehem star or the glow of the remarkably clean, if not sparkling, Christ Child.  Kings on camels proceeded toward a tiny city nestled in the sand dunes that brought to mind the story of Christmas. Many of them had a scripture verse inscribed in the corner.  In fact, if you were clever and up on your bible, you could guess what scripture the card would contain by the picture on the front. Yet all of them possessed a photo declaration of a time long ago, when something remarkable took place.

Once in royal David’s city,

Stood a lowly cattle shed,

Where a mother laid her Baby,

In a manger for His bed:

Mary was that mother mild,

Jesus Christ, her little Child.

He came down to earth from heaven,

Who is God and Lord of all,

And His shelter was a stable,

And His cradle was a stall:

With the poor, and mean, and lowly,

Lived on earth our Saviour holy.

The marvelous thing about the story of Jesus birth is that it holds such hope for us today.

I’m unclear at what age innocence dies, though I suspect it has much to do with what a person is called to bear.  Clearer in my mind, is the fact that almost everyone I know above the age of 35 starts to understand that the season of Christmas, as portrayed by family cards, is difficult to navigate.  Looking at the photos of smiling people on holiday has little to do with the brokenness in many lives.  I was recently sobbing on the phone to a friend that I had no desire to walk where the Lord was leading me.  Despite all my prayers, planning and industry, brokenness was heading for me like a wave and I found myself unable to make any sense of life. In this season of goodwill and celebration, grief and heartache are an unwelcome reality.  How do you make a Christmas card out of that?  Imagine for a moment, your hearts deepest burden and then add to it a picture of you grappling with its worst consequences.  Now, come with me a moment longer and construct a glossy Christmas card of that moment.  What seasonal greeting would grace that photo, dear friend?

Yet the story of Jesus is in that exact vein.  A young couple pregnant out of wedlock, holed up in a stable, no healthcare provider or midwife.  In a town where she certainly has relations no one has shown up to tend to her as she faces the birth of her first child.  She looks exhausted and he looks uncertain, even frightened perhaps.  A baby without proper covering, in unsanitary conditions lying in a filthy box and across this historic card in 16 point red font the words, “Immanuel: God With Us!” 

What on earth was God thinking?

He was thinking of us.  The “us” without the fancy family card, without our best foot forward.  For God he seems to have strange standards, but not if you understand he was thinking of the brokenness that gripped humanity and how he would condescend to enter into relationship with us.   His means of celebration is unconventional much like his Christmas card.  A back water town, a hovel of a birth place, humble beginnings doesn’t begin to describe the lowliness of his arrival.  Announce your coming to the dregs of humanity; proclaim hope to the hopeless and a means of salvation to those who know they are lost.  His love for those who are nothing means he turned the whole pecking order upside down. If you are withdrawn from society and your family doesn’t visit, God wants to spend Christmas with you.  If your closest friend has turned against you and you no longer have traditions that used to be precious to your heart, God has hope for your heartache.  If this Christmas finds you without your beloved and all you want to do is curl up and sleep until spring, there is one who wants to share your grief.  The coming of Jesus means that there is hope for your despair, comfort for your affliction and restoration for brokenness.

It’s quite the Christmas card, this picture of Jesus’ arrival.

So I’m praying this week, that we might spend some time with the story of Christmas.  That as society tells you to spend more to acquire a perfect Christmas, you might remember that Christmas is, at the very core, for those whose Christmas is painful, lonely and sad.  And that no amount of Christmas card fantasy can drown out the truth of hope that is offered to those who desire to meet him.

xoxKaren