Comfort In: Luke 2:1-14 - Christmas Eve

 

Photo by David Trinks on Unsplash

What’s the worst hotel room you’ve ever stayed in?

A while back, Elizabeth and I stayed in a Super 8 Motel not too far from here. It’s no longer in business under that name.

We were given key cards for the room, and when I opened it up, I saw a large, bare belly, sleeping in a bid piled full of fast-food wrappers and empty bottles. His snoring rumbled through the blaring TV.

I immediately shut the door and whisked Elizabeth and our suitcases back into the elevator before the man could wake up, possibly thinking we’d come to rob him.

Down at the front desk, we were informed that the hotel was fully booked, and that we would only have a room if the current occupant had not paid to stay an extra night. Luckily for us, we found a room in another motel. But to this day, I always hesitate to open a hotel room door for the first time.

Nevertheless, if you have four walls and a door, you have it better than Mary and Joseph did when Jesus was born.

Click here to read the Scripture text

The Scripture says, “there was no room in the inn,” but that’s a tad misleading, because hotels and motels didn’t exist back then. Instead, it was a social expectation that if travelers came to town, you would allow them to stay in your home—especially if you had an upstairs guest room, like the one where Jesus celebrated his last supper.

With Bethlehem full of travelers from out of town, and with it being in the middle of the night, Joseph certainly had his work cut out for him, trying to find a suitable place for Mary to deliver. Ultimately, he had no choice but to take shelter in a most inhospitable place—a manger. I doubt they had permission—which makes them what we’d call squatters.  

When you think about it, Mary and Joseph couldn’t catch a break—and they won’t catch a break any time soon. Their lives were turned upside down when the angel appeared to Mary, and she consented to bearing the Christ child. Then came the census, which forced them to make the ninety-mile trek to Bethlehem with the baby due at any moment. All so that the emperor could collect more taxes.

Our manger scenes don’t do justice to Mary and Joseph, and how exhausted they must’ve been—especially Mary. I highly doubt that she would’ve been kneeling serenely by the manager. The human body can only take so much.

It would’ve been helpful if they were visited by a midwife or a physician, or anyone who could attend to their needs.

But no, they were visited by shepherds—the kind of people you don’t want showing up announced, because they were so dirty and smelly.

All told, we’ve sanitized the manger so much that we may as well put miniature Purell dispensers on the back wall to make it complete.

While it’s disturbing to think that Jesus was born in such harsh conditions, children are born every day in refugee camps, bomb shelters, and shanty towns barely fit for human habitation. And that’s worth considering, because God could have chosen to be born in a safer and much more comfortable environment. He was a king, after all.
 
Be he didn’t. God chose to be born to ordinary parents of humble estate. God chose the discomfort of the manger. God chose the society’s rejects to be the first witnesses to his birth. God chose to be born in a time when his life would be in danger.

It would’ve been nice for Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds to have been able to leave behind their chaotic lives and live happily ever after. That doesn’t happen. The shepherds return to their fields and flocks; and soon, Mary and Joseph will be evacuating to Egypt, to escape King Herod’s genocidal wrath.

Circumstances did not change. Hard times did not end. But Jesus showed up—and that is what made all the difference. If the manger tells you anything, it is that you won’t find Jesus in treasures wrapped in fancy paper, or in all the other creature comforts advertised on TV. Jesus is born among the poor, the powerless, and those who enjoy few (if any) of the world’s comforts. You’ll find him in the hospitals and nursing homes, in the shelters and orphanages, in refugee camps and bomb shelters, in prisons and out in the streets with people who have no homes. You will find him born in everything that is painful, scary, and difficult.

There may not have been room in the inn for Christ, but there is room in Christ for you and for everything that hurts.

But that’s only half of what we celebrate tonight. The shepherds may not have come bearing gifts like the Magi did, but their presence was surely a comfort for the weary parents, especially when they spoke of the heavenly chorus they’d witnessed. How much more comfort can you bring to someone by visiting them in their affliction? How much more can you bless the baby Jesus in the neighbor who needs your good works?

Your comfort in Christ isn’t about staying where you are, but going where you’re led. So keep awake. Watch and pray, because God has something very special for you to see—and something very special for you to do.

We’ve met baby Jesus in the manger. Tomorrow, you will find him in the people and the places where God will send you. The miracle of Christmas happens when people like you are willing to go out and be God’s presence for the neighbor. The miracle of Christmas happens where God’s presence meets humanity’s hurts.