The Calendar Can’t Be Right?
Is it just me, or was it July about five minutes ago? I looked at the calendar this morning and nearly choked on my coffee. December isn’t just knocking on the door; it’s kicked the door down, raided the fridge, and is currently stringing lights on the roof.
We are deep in it now, folks. The countdown is on. And you know what that means... the inevitable battle of the shopping cart.
Survival of the Fittest (Shopper)
I made the mistake of heading out for a "quick" gift run yesterday. Let me share a little life lesson: there is no such thing as a "quick" trip to the store in December. The parking lot was like a game of Tetris played by people who have forgotten the rules of geometry. I spent twenty minutes circling like a shark, stalking a minivan that looked like it might be leaving, only to find the driver was just sitting there eating a sandwich.
Once I got inside, it was a gladiator arena. I saw a look in a shopper's eye over the last discounted air fryer that I usually only see in nature documentaries. People were dodging carts, checking lists, and moving with a speed that defies physics. And the music! If I hear "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time" one more time while stuck in a checkout line that wraps around the store, I might just start mumbling to myself even louder than usual.
It’s frantic. It’s loud. It’s exhausted parents and over-caffeinated cashiers. It’s the "most wonderful time of the year," wrapped in a whole lot of stress.
The Quiet Truth
But amidst the madness of the mall, the receipt tape that stretches for miles, and the panic of finding the "perfect" gift, I had to stop and take a breath. It is so easy to get caught up in the doing of Christmas that we completely miss the being of Christmas.
We run around trying to create the perfect holiday, but we have to remember that the very first Christmas wasn't perfect. It was messy. It was travel-weary parents, a dirty stable, and no room at the inn.
And yet, that is exactly where God chose to enter our world.
The true reason for this season isn't found in a doorbuster sale or under a pile of wrapping paper. It’s found in the humility of the Incarnation. Christ came into the world not with a parade, but as a helpless infant, to save us all. He stepped into our mess—into the chaos of our lives—to bring light to the darkness. He came to bridge the gap we couldn't cross ourselves.
As we race toward the 25th, let’s try to find a little silence in the noise. Let the packed parking lots be a reminder to offer a little patience. Let the long lines be a moment to say a quick prayer. And let’s remember that the greatest gift has already been purchased for us, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and given freely to the world.
