“It is absolutely clear that God
has called you to a free life.”
It is a cold, rainy, late fall day in Philadelphia. It is typical for
early December; damp and gray. I still haven’t gotten into the spirit of the
season and it is worrying me, but Christmas rushes toward us regardless.
Another day dawns and another opportunity to see what further
mysteries the little advent calendar holds.
I open the little leather door. For the first time in eight days, I
don't like the image I see. It is an older man, I don't know him, yet he seems
familiar. I decide to stand to the side and observe. He arrives at the cave
with trepidation. My heart tells me he has made this journey many times in the
past and it has always left him discomfited. This place ruins his theology
every time he comes here. Yet he comes back each year because he so desperately
wants what this baby offers. He just can't get used to the surroundings and the
poverty and the dirt.
The overflowing love of an infant Savior makes him uneasy. He has
never been comfortable merely accepting this child as he is. This man has
always thought God was too easy on us all and that we need to strain more to
accept this gift. (The true nature of a gift being lost on his tired soul long
ago.)
So again he comes, trying to find a way to reconcile this place and
this child with his legalistic theology. He huffs and puffs around the entrance
to the cave until finally he bows and scurries in, like a chipmunk running for
the hollow of a fallen oak.
He crawls in on hands and knees, making a mental note of how well
dressed he is compared to Mary and Joseph and the other visitors. Then he sees
how filthy everything is, and that much of that filth is getting his brand new
charcoal suit dirty. He is flustered now because he didn't plan on getting
dirty...and this a new suit.
He looks around, grasps Josephs hand heartily, and nods toward Mary as
if she is merely a domestic servant. Mary smiles gently and thinks to herself
how every time he comes here he behaves the same way towards her. I think to
myself how the man treats Mary as if she were a Catholic. Even at his age, and
wisdom, he doesn’t grasp that she is not.
The man glances around at the unbelievably dismal surroundings and he
gives a shudder. "This is wrong," he thinks to himself. "This
scene is wrong somehow. This poverty, this humbleness. He is a King for God's
sake!"
He glances at his watch, "Good I am early...the wise men haven't
even arrived yet” he thinks this every year, and prides himself on getting here
ahead of the much ballyhooed Orient Kings. This man is approaching 80 years old
and still doesn't realize that they won't be coming tonight. Joseph tried
explaining that to him once when he asked, but the old man argued with him so
vehemently that he gave up trying. Joseph and Mary tolerate this man for one
reason only, and I am about to find out why.
The old man looks at the four figures around the manger in annoyance.
They have been there since he arrived and he is late. He has a candlelight
service to attend and now he is going to have to change suits before he can go.
Besides, these men are shepherds and they are really smelly. Three of them are
standing, albeit hunched over and one man is on his knees rocking slowly back
and forth. The three are speaking to him, trying to get him to finish up and
get going.
“L'enchante...L'enchante, we must be leaving!” But the fourth shepherd
is lost in adoration and the only response they get is his melodic, whispered
worship tune..."Jesu...Jesu..." His tears flow freely and his smile
is as nothing anyone has ever seen. The old man clears his throat loudly and
taps on his watch when one of the shepherds looks back. They have no idea what
the gesture means, having never seen a watch, but they assume he is in a hurry.
The shepherd blushes and finally the fourth man rises to his hunched over
position with his three compatriots. They walk past the old man apologetically
and he offers a bleak, pained smile.
Now he is alone with the child. He crouches down so as not to kneel,
not wanting to further soil his new charcoal suit. He arrives at the manger and
for a moment, he seems to soften. A few tears come to his eyes but he resists
them. He looks at the tiny figure stirring in the crib and his heart aches to
hold him. His hand reaches for a tiny finger but withdraws instantly.
"No!" he thinks..."This is the Savior. He cannot be
touched!"
His hands tremble and his heart is on fire in his chest. Being this
close to that which he adores and still not reaching out to him and holding
him, his god-nature cries out: "Pick Him up!" but his legalistic
flesh refuses. "Never!" he says to himself, "This is sacred and
holy. I cannot touch him nor can He touch me. I would die."
The conflict is visible and the baby begins to cry, perhaps because of
the turmoil in the man’s heart and on his face. The baby is reaching a tiny hand
toward this man and the man’s heart is wrenched. Mary can stand no more of this
and she rushes to her son. She turns a fiery glance at the old man and spits
out; "Every time you come here, my son longs for you to pick him up and
hold him. And you always refuse. Why? Why do you not understand that a baby
must be held to give its love and to receive yours? Why do you not understand
this?”
Mary blushes as she realizes she is raising her voice at this man. But
her mother’s heart is wounded because of this man's rejection of her son's
loving overtures, yet she shows compassion to him. "Sir" she whispers
as her tiny hand touches his, "I can see that you have love for him...but
he is a baby and he cannot take that love you bring unless you touch him. And
he cannot love you in return unless you let him touch you."
The old man trembles and almost breaks. Everything in his old soul
longs to hold this child. He knows he has the very son of God -his own savior-
right here and he could touch Him, but he refuses. He has all that he has ever
longed for at his disposal, but his pride, and the depth of his legalism
prevent him and he stumbles out of the cave yet again. He remains untouched and
unchanged, refusing the humbling love of being accepted as he already is, not as
he thinks he needs to be.
“Jesus loves us just as we are...not as we ought to be. Because we will never be as we ought to be.” --Brennan Manning
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