The Ironies of Christmas

The King of Kings was born, not in a palace, but in an unsanitary, foul-smelling stable.

The Son of God was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger -- a feeding trough for the animals.

The simple, common shepherds were the first to see Him.  The wise men arrived much later (despite what the traditianal nativity scenes would have us believe).

Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, was a carpenter.  However, if the royal lineage of David had stayed in power, he himself would have been a rightful heir to the throne of Judah.  As would Jesus.

If not for a Roman tax, the birth of Jesus would not have occured in Bethlehem.  Ceaser's decree determined what city Christ was born.

The star that appeared in the sky could be seen by all, but its significance was understood by only a few. And fewer still had the will and resources to follow the course which the star revealed.

Today, the birth of Christ is celebrated by the world with little thought to who He was and is and what He did and does.  Instead, commercialism and secularism have replaced Jesus with Santa, Rudolf, and Frosty. Shopping is more important than giving.  Parties are more important than celebrating.  Holiday stress has replaced quiet contemplation.

A point for me to ponder about Christmas this year comes from its strong ironies.  The inconsistencies. The things about Christmas and the birth of a Messiah that do not seem to make sense when looking upon it at face value.

And this helps me come to terms with the so-called injustices and ironic tragedies in my own small life.

If God the Father allowed His only begotten Son to be born in such an environment of oppression and squalor, who am I then to think my own life unfair, unfulfilled?  Not rewarded justly?

Who am I to complain that I fail to receive what I deserve?  To protest to the world that I deserve more!

Can we remain silent when silence is eloquence -- but may be used against us? Or will we murmur, just to let God know we notice the ironies?

Can we absorb the irony of being hurt while trying to help? Having done good, when we are misrepresented, can we watch the feathers of false witness scatter on the winds?

Life’s comparatively few ironies are much more than offset by heaven’s many mercies! We cannot count all our blessings every day, but we can carry over the reassuring bottom line from the last counting.

--Neal A. Maxwell

So this Christmas, I give.  I celebrate.  I quietly contemplate the birth of Jesus and what it  means to me and this world.

I think on what it means to embrace a humble life.