Nail Pierced Hands

May I just state for the record that I am in bed under three blankets with fleece pajamas on and my fingers and nose are numb?  It's 5am and I can't sleep- no it ain't Santa Claus, it's my new friend jet lag. 

Aside from being cold and tired most of the time, it has been a wonderful few days in Michigan.  I've been able to catch up with friends and hug my siblings and eat home cooked meals and was even able to send a salad back and get a new one on account of it being covered in white dressing.  It's the little things in life. 

I'm not quite sure how the birth of Jesus turned into winter and snow and presents and trees and family dinner and candlelight services, but we'll have fun with all those things today, except maybe for snow, which has yet to make an appearance.  Last week as I was reading the Christmas story out of Luke as part of my Advent readings, I was also finishing up the book of Matthew as part of my regular daily readings- the birth juxtaposed against the crucifixion- and it was rather intriguing.  Many times I think when we read about Christ's birth we read it in its humble context, but coming in contrast to his last few hours, Jesus' first few hours took on a rather regal quality.  I was struck not by the simplicity of the surroundings or the poverty of his parents, but by the majesty of the announcement and the reverence of the visitors.  In him was life, and this life was the light of men. 

There is something to be said for putting our main emphasis on Jesus' humble beginnings, but I am wondering if maybe sometimes we pay so much attention to the fact that there was no room in the inn, that we miss the activity of the cosmos, the grandeur of the heavenly hosts, the glittering wealth of the gold (for royalty), frankincense (for Priests) and myrrh  (a prophetic burial spice).  At Easter time we talk about the triumphal procession into Jerusalem as showing Jesus' majesty- but to me palm branches and a ride on a donkey pale in comparison to unknown stars appearing or a company of angels singing praises. No wonder Herod was scared. 

We celebrate Christ's birth today, not so much because he was born, but because he died.  We give gifts in honor of the greatest gift, the sacrifice of the Son of God.  We live not because of how the story started, but because of how it ended.  As we peer into the manger scene today, as we gaze longingly with the shepherds at this miracle birth, may we see also the crown of thorns, the nail pierced hands, and the empty tomb.