This family tradition began when I was very young & could have never existed without my big brother, Sam. Each year for our Christmas Eve get-together at my grandma's house he would re-vamp & then compose a Christmas play for all of the cousins to act out in the living room for the adults prior to opening our presents. This was sometimes tiresome for the cousins as my brother's writing level far exceed our reading capabilites & sometimes tiresome for the adults because the length of the plays increased as he became a increasingly proficient writer (it also took me along time to sound out many of the words he would write in the play programs). My sister came around when I was ten which meant there were six cousins total; my brother, myself, my baby sis & our three cousins. Sam would seldom act, as his job of narrating, orienting & then re-orienting all of us during the play was enough job in itself. This would leave me, reluctantly, as the lead actor each year as I was second oldest to my brother. I have played the Grinch, Ebeneezer, Joseph & many others but my favorite of all these was Joseph. My brother retold the nativity as one of our very first plays for the family, it was simply told & planted a small seed in my heart among many others that over the years was watered & nourished by the love of God, my family & all of you. My memories of being young seem like ghosts at times, wisps of thought you can almost hold onto but slip through your fingers but I can remember this story.
The story of Christ's birth seemed more impossible than any other Christmas story I had ever heard. There were promises of a King born of a Virgin, God come in flesh to save us, yet Jesus was humbly born & placed in a manger. There was no room for Him in Bethlehem, where Joseph & Mary had to travel on their own to take part in the census Caesar Augustus had commanded all people to do. It didn't make total sense to me. How could a baby born in a small town by young parents, in the middle of the night in a stable become one of the most known & talked of names in all of history? How could God love us so much that He would enter the world in such a vulnerable way at such a violent time in history?
As a teenager I became bored with Christmas. I would serve as little as possible & look to see what I could gain more than anyone should. Without serving, sacrificing or generosity such a beautiful season as Christmas began losing value to me. I had little interest in the cute holiday stories anymore.
My first memories of our Christmas plays remained, however, & the seed that rooted in me years prior began spreading through the darkened & hardened areas of my heart. This impossible story of Jesus's birth became too beautiful to ignore just as impossible as it was for me to deny the beauty looking out at the sun dipping behind our Colorado mountains with radiant oranges & pinks running through the sky. This story became not just something I heard but something I felt, not just something I knew but something I believed & I was ready to believe something that seemed so impossible. I was ready stop selling myself short on what my belief was made for & I no longer wanted to listen to a world where a love so great as Christs was considered falicy.
So this year as I think back & see Christ's story entering my life as a young boy, I am thankful. I am thankful that He never gave up on us. I am thankful that in His life He offers us something seemingly impossible to believe & has transformed countless hearts & lives through His. I am thankful for His story because through Him it has allowed me to believe in others & myself again. His story has made my life not only a better one but one worth living.
No comments:
Post a Comment