What does a gift look like? My dad really disliked Christmas for one reason: gift buying. To him it was stressful. A little bit toward the finances. But it was more so: this gift defines how I feel/love the other person. Too cheap or obvious digging into the bargain bin means no careful thought and last-minute shopping. Too expensive of a gift may leave a regret that too much money was spent for someone who maybe didn’t deserve it, didn’t receive it sufficiently, or worse was not reciprocated back in kind (then or the following year). Too intimate for the wrong person can make the relationship feel awkward. But when an adequate/appropriate gift, a needed gift, a gift that sufficiently shares/conveys the love of the giver to the receiver, the pleasure is a shared experience. It is written on their faces when the person opens their gift and they are grateful and/or appreciative. And the one who gave the gift is intently reading the receiver’s expression to know: did I get it right or not…is it sufficient enough or not?
Gift opening was a wonderous time at my grandparents’ house while growing up and even as a married adult. It wasn’t the issue necessarily of the gifts given/received, but it was the love for one another in the room. Whether there was a pile of paper littering the floor or a small one that showed where things were financially. Gifts given to my brother and me in the form of homemade—a tractor shed, a tall barn, and a house—by my grandfather when I was eight years old was not received as warmly as it ought to have. Why? I was too involved with toys to want something this large and especially homemade. In any event, gift opening was a shared experience save one: my uncle Gary. I never understood why he refused to open his gifts in front of people. Was it because he enjoyed the giving more than the receiving? Was it because he suspected lousy gifts and didn’t want the giver’s feelings hurt with his lack of reception? Was it because he didn’t need anything so he knew these gifts would be either returned to a store or regifted to someone else? Outside of only guessing, the one who truly knew the answer took it to his grave.
Over 2000 years ago another special day took place. People from all over the area were travelling to their heritage or birth cities to be taxed (census). A couple, that from the outside looked no different than any other couple milling about, arrived in Bethlehem late that day. Those who arrived earlier or who had been there for a time were settled in. They went about their lives to buy food and items from the market. Lines were formed and eventually dwindled and dismissed by Romans dutifully notating roll. Joseph’s family was from here. No doubt family trips were taken to Bethlehem after they moved away. But for Mary, she was a total stranger. To leave from a small and insignificant village of Nazareth to the bustling city of Bethlehem, we would modernly describe it as sensory overload. And to complicate matters the miserable journey with Mary who was nine months pregnant on an animal that was more concerned about its safety while walking the rocky and dusty paths than the delicate passenger on board his back. I remember how rough of a drive it was taking my wife on a 45-minute drive to her parents while she was pregnant. You had to overplan and be prepared for anything. And she never seemed to be comfortable. It didn’t help at times that the vehicle we were in may not had air conditioning. Rough roads were felt outside and inside for my wife. For Joseph and Mary, this trip was even more difficult. It is always assumed that when family would come in that they would be received—which included food and lodging. In those days of the guest-host relationship, it was always assumed that one day they would travel and they would have to be taken care of, so in reciprocity you treat your guests well. But strangely there was no room. Pain and strain, discomfort from the journey, weary and hungry, Joseph and Mary pushed on. Her hands frequently shifting on her stomach for the very soon-to-be-born baby who was ready to greet the world. Whimpering and even beads of sweat form and are more frequent despite her lovingly and dutifully taking it all in as a trooper (hats off to moms) for her husband. Nothing can be more frustrating for a husband than taking care of a pregnant and uncomfortable wife with doors slamming shut in their faces. I’m certain that he bargained with an occupant or two that for them to just allow Mary to stay inside and he could just sleep outside on the steps (good husbands sacrifice). How will the gift to the world be received? Inconvenient? Too much bother? Simply: no room. Mary winches in pain and a painful yelp is uttered from her lips while at their last-chanced house. “To the stable” is all that is offered (whether it was a garage, cave, barn, whatever isn’t the point; the point is that it wasn’t a comfortable place that smelled of animals, including feces). A gift given to these weary travelers.
Moments pass on this silent night and the most blessed gift arrives: the Saviour of the world. And from this place, I would like to allow Luke’s gospel to take over for a moment. “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us,” Luke 2:8-15.
So what does a gift look like? I would think with a brilliantly bright light that people would had ran out their doors to see such a marvelous thing. But they didn’t. I would think that praises from the sky above declaring glory to God would had sent thunderings or an earthquake to startle the people. But there was no response. Everyone was busy with their affections and what was important to them. We can be so busy that we can miss what God desires to do. The gift? Could be salvation offered. Could be an opportunity to bless someone in need? Could be an opportunity to receive a blessing when we are the one in need? Could be just a true friendship that is deeply cherished? Could be a prayer which yields a timely answer?
And yet who was prepared to receive that gift? Joseph, Mary, and shepherds who dutifully were about their business. They all were expectant for something. They all needed something radicle. And it was for these people, God revealed His gift. Perhaps for shepherds because Cain was a shepherd? Perhaps because David was a shepherd (as a youth, as military leader, and as a king)? Perhaps because Jesus would be revealed as the Great Shepherd? And yet these shepherds were sore afraid. This was an event that shook them to their core. Their lives were never to be the same again. And that is what true salvation/conversion is: never to be the same again. Romans 12:2 calls it “be transformed” which loosely means metamorphosis. This is a complete change from one to another.
Will this Christmas be a number of gifts given and received without relationships changing (or improving)? Will gifts received be ones of disdain or out of a bratty heart? Will gifts given be ones without love or ones hoping to had nailed the item/price paid? Or will the simplest gift—love, simplicity of heart, sharing and laughing, GIVING—be the gift? Is it sufficient? Truly, more than sufficient. What does our gift look like?