Sweet little eight pound, six ounce, newborn baby Jesus.
And that little baby in the manger is the reason for Christmas, right?
Well, here’s the thing. I love Christmas. I love baby Jesus. But I’ve rediscovered something recently, through conversations with friends and singing old songs and revisiting well-worn stories. Sure, Christmas isn’t just about shopping and toys and eggnog. But Christmas also isn’t just about a baby in a manger, arms outstretched like he’s in a classical painting. It isn’t just about a mom looking reverently at her baby, looking positively divine, mere moments after giving birth.
What if even our Nativity scenes and songs about that baby even missed the point of Christmas? What if we’ve managed to turn sweet little baby Jesus into an eight pound idol?
I think I’ve relearned something that just might save my Christmas this year…