A young boy playing a drum, frozen in mid-beat. A tired-looking shepherd awkwardly holding a squirming, bleating lamb. A heavily-cloaked man clutching an ornate box. A large-winged angel, mouth opened wide in song. A sleepy cow. One by one we unwrap each piece of the nativity set and place it on the table in front of the altar. This is our first Christmas at this base chapel, and when we dug the dusty boxes of Christmas decorations from the storage unit, we had no idea what we would find.
None of us ever really knows what we’re going to find at each new place the decision-makers send us in this military life, do we?
Anticipation builds with each figurine we unwrap and then abruptly falls when none of the boxes reveal Mary, Joseph, or the baby Jesus. I look at the scene before me: shepherds, magi, barn animals, and even a milkmaid surrounded by geese, but what was supposed to be the source of their awe and wonder and worship was completely missing.
Some Christmas seasons are like that. I want the scene to be set with joy and coziness and excitement. I string lights and beauty all around my house. I bake sweet treats and order gifts I think might bring a smile to someone I love. Those things are all good, but if I’m not looking to the One who is the source of this joy and celebration, the Christmas scene around me is missing its purpose.
And somtimes there are very important pieces missing from the Christmas scene in our home. An empty chair at the dinner table. A Christmas stocking that must be sent in a care package. A family gathering on the other side of the country without us.
Beloved, God sees your most intimate longings. He knows about the missing pieces, but He has not left you alone. He promises that if you seek Him, you will find Him. (Jeremiah 29:13, Matthew 7:8). The most important piece in your Christmas scene is the Prince of Peace, and He is there with you. Emmanuel, God with us!
We still haven’t found the Mary, Joseph, and Jesus figurines for the chapel nativity scene—maybe they’re on their way to Bethlehem?—but I’m reminded to spend time reflecting on what’s not missing in my own story: God Himself.