Searching for Christ(mas)

In the centre of every nativity scene sits a manger, or a crib, or a bottom drawer, or a packing box, or a bundle of blankets carefully but haphazardly arranged. 

In the twinkling lights, the candles, the laser shows, the stars, the tinsel that catches a glimmer of the street lights as the wind blows through the gaps in the windows. 

Behind advent doors, filled with the taste of goodness, surprises, unexpected creative gifts, the carefully planned messages planned meticulously each year. 

In the faces gazing through windows at the want but can’t have, in the lingering prayers and laughter of the loved one lost that hang around the room resting on the seat where she always sat. 

In the sacrifices, the generosity, the hampers that are packed - in those for whom a hamper makes Christmas, and those who get a feeling of warmth inside as they seek to bless. 

In gentle touches and in embraces, in those who simply sit, presence felt, silence valued. 

In knowing that a greater love than has ever been known lays thick in the air. Expectation, restoration, salvation, heard in the gentle gurgle of a well fed baby boy who surprised his parents and nearly turned up on a donkey. 

The word became flesh and moved into the neighbourhood.

Christ never left, you know. We don’t have to force him back into the Christmas box of all we think it should be. 

Every year there are rumours of a Christmas ban, of Christmas lights being ripped down, symbolic of our Christian core being ripped from the body of whatever it means to be a Christian nation. Of Christ being removed from Christmas. 

But Christ never left, you know. 

If you’ve lost sight of him then you might just find him waiting for you amongst the lonely, the hungry, the broken and the sick. 

You might just find him with those who have no place to call home, who are displaced, unable to return to a place ravaged by war and corruption.

You might just find him on the shore, waiting for the boats, caring for those who have just about survived a crossing full of deceptive hope of better because of a  new life that has been mis-sold. 

He’s here, in these streets, bringing light in the most dark and lonely of corners. Shining bright on the hillside, proclaiming hope, glowing beauty amongst the broken, possibility amongst despair. 

He chose where to dwell - in the neighbourhood. Amongst us. 

He never left, you know.