The Crazy Way He Came

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Hello Bravehearted Beauties! I’ve missed you! Happy second week of December! Good LORD! Help us slow this train down! I feel like Thanksgiving crashed right into Christmas, and I wasn’t ready. Anyone else feeling the holiday whiplash? I’ve joked that my house is suffering from a seasonal identity crisis {pumpkins and poinsettias on the porch}. And if I’m honest, my spirit is suffering a bit, too.

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But that’s okay. We weren’t meant to rush from one significant season to another with no time to process or recover in between. We weren’t meant to pull off a great Thanksgiving {or struggle our way through a difficult one} and then perk right up for Christmas. So leave your pumpkins on the porch if you’d like. No need to give into the pressure of Christmas if you’re not feeling it.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I loved stretching the joy of the season out for as long as possible, hence a decade of designing Christmas cards from September through December! But this year, I just wasn’t ready to embrace the season. Until…I spent the day cleaning a dirty, dusty, stinky, poopy barn.

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Note: I’m pretty sure this will be an unconventional Christmas post. It’s not often that you find Jesus and poop in the same sentence! Truth be told, I didn’t call it “poop” while cleaning the barn. When it smells that bad, and you’re all up in it, you call it what it is! Shocking, I know. But so is the birth of a king in manger.

Have you ever cleaned a barn? Mucked a stall? Refreshed a coop? Shoveled through layers of poop? Me neither…until we chased a God-sized dream and moved to a small farm in Franklin. Our dream always included chickens, which turned into dogs to guard them, ducks for the pond, barn cats to control the mice, sheep for the pasture, turkeys for my husband, and a puppy for the girls. Do you know what all those animals mean? LOTS of poop. And a very messy barn! Gone are the days of family barn worship. The smell of sheep urine alone makes it hard to sing praise!

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Last week, on a dreary winter day, my husband and I decided it was time to clean the barn. {With so much to tend to here on the farm, we’re always behind. Whoever demands our attention gets it, and last week, it was the chickens.} So we braved the cold drizzle and spent half a day shoveling you know what. {I know my husband is dying for me to say it! He gets a kick out of my occasional free farmgirl barn language.}

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And the whole time I worked, barely able to breathe because of the stench of sheep urine and every kind of animal poop, I thought of Jesus. Yes, I thought of poop and Jesus at the very same time.

Because this is where Emmanuel, God with us, made His arrival. Of all places, the King of Kings chose a dirty, dusty, stinky, poopy place where animals sleep, eat and go to the bathroom. Really God?!?! As if being born weren’t humble enough, the High King of Heaven chose to be born in a mess of stinky hay and animal poop. How’s that for a disruptive view of Christmas?

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With every stinky scoop I shoveled, I couldn’t help but wonder why God came this way. Why would the King of Kings leave heaven’s glory and splendor for a poop-filled place? Why would the Savior of the world make His fleshly debut in a rough and dirty feed trough? Why would anyone leave a throne and all the majesty of heaven for the lowliest kind of birth? Why, God? Why did You choose to come to us this way?

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As I broke open a fresh hay bale and scattered it around the sheep pen, I thought of the night Jesus was born. Did the sheep peer over the manger adoringly? Did they snuggle in close to keep the baby who was born a king nice and warm? I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong: there were definitely some sheep in the scene. And probably some precious little lambs, too. How do I know? Because on the night Jesus was born, the angels delivered the most glorious birth announcement the world has ever seen to the shepherds…and sheep follow their shepherds. {You should see our two sheep with our Anatolian Shepherds.}

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And why, God? Why did You choose to give shepherds the very fist glimpse of Your glory? Why did you announce Your arrival to such ragamuffins? Didn’t You know they’d bring all their dirty, stinky mess into your sweet little manger scene? And You know how sheep are: they don’t care if you’re a king or a ragamuffin; they pee where they want to, and it stinks to high heaven! You didn’t have to choose that place or those people. You could’ve made room at the inn. You could’ve chosen a palace for that matter! You’re a KING! Even I know a barn is no place for a king to be born!

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But You, Emmanuel, You still come like this. You come into this place for this kind of person. I’m every bit as messy and unlikely to give You the glory you deserve as those ragamuffin shepherds were, and yet here You are. With me. For me.

And in that moment, I don’t know whether to wipe the sweat or wipe the tears. I don’t know whether to gasp for fresh air from the stink, or gasp in humility because You still come like this. My spirit yields and my heart wants to kneel down, right there in the mess of the barn. Because of the way You came.

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Because this is still the way You come.

Your arrival even this day is gloriously disruptive. You come in the middle of the mess. You come where we wish we had poinsettias instead of pumpkins on the porch. You come where we wish we were better, faster, smarter, skinnier. You come where we have failed a hundred times and will fail a thousand more. You come into the aches and pains of this world, the mess of relationships, and the deep longings of our hearts. You come into every broken, messy place, never once demanding that we clean this place up before You enter. Our mess is where You choose to come and be with us.

Emmanuel, God With Us. This Christmas…and always.

Treasuring all of these things in my heart,

 

 

 

P.S. I’m reminded of a song I quoted on my Christmas card years ago…long before I knew a thing about barns. It still speaks to me today. Manger Throne by Third Day:

What kind of King would leave His throne
In Heaven to make this earth His home?
While men seek fame and great renown
In lowliness our King comes down

CHORUS: Jesus, Jesus, precious one
How we thank You that You’ve come
Jesus, Jesus, precious one
A manger throne for God’s own son

You left the sound of angels’ praise
To come for men with unkind ways
And by this Baby’s helplessness
The power of nations is laid to rest

What kind of King would come so small
From glory to a humble stall?
That dirty manger is my heart too
I’ll make it a royal throne for You