December 12, 2020

Written by Guest Writer, Joy Mathis Chadwick

Away in a manger, no crib for His bed. The little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head.

As I sat in the middle of the floor this morning trying to get the last of the Christmas presents wrapped, I did a quick review of what I had for each one on my list. My young grandson will be more excited over the size of the boxes than what is inside. The guys will immediately know which gifts are socks and underwear without even looking inside the box. What’s inside some of the boxes just won’t measure up to the way the box is wrapped; the pretty paper and big bows are pretty deceiving.

And then my mind started wandering down memory lane.

I vividly remember last year – before CoVid – when the kids were practicing their upcoming Christmas program on a Wednesday night while the non-singing adults had Bible study in the kitchen at church. I tried to keep my little brain geared to the lesson at hand, but I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering as I heard those sweet voices singing “Away In A Manger”. And just like that, suddenly I’m a first grader in my own Christmas program at Little Creek Church, trying with all my might not to get my burning candle too close to the Vance boy beside me. (Was it Ray or Bill? I can’t remember. But I don’t remember setting either one of them on fire. Some adult in charge probably just didn’t think through the logistics of burning candles and small children. And all of us little angels with our tinsel halos probably ran circles with sharp scissors too.)

But that song – Away In A Manger – it just haunts me. Away. The King of all kings was born in a damp, dark cave and placed in a feed trough on a bed of hay. Away from what would have been expected for a king. Away from friends and family. Away from anything that even resembled comfort. This is in such sharp contrast to any baby born in the United States in the last 100 years, much less the arrival of a baby of royal lineage. Christ’s birth had been foretold by the prophet Isaiah seven hundred years before that life-changing night in Bethlehem. People expected a king in all his finery; they wanted their king to be all wrapped up nice and pretty, like a pretty Christmas present. But Our Redeemer was lying in a feed trough, in a barn, wrapped in swaddling clothes. I’m sure that those who were aware that a baby had been born there in Bethlehem assumed that this poor child must have been a “nobody”.

Many people who are looking for Our Redeemer today might begin by looking at us first, watching to see if having Jesus in our lives truly does make a difference. What is our wrapping? Do we look all pretty in our finest outfits, but aren’t quite so pretty once unwrapped? Are we wrapped up in the love of Jesus? Or do people have to get to know us pretty well before they peel away the layers of our outward wrapping to get to the message of Our Redeemer? But we all have our wrappings, don’t we? It’s easy to make decisions based on outward appearances sometimes, but just like a Christmas present, we have to unwrap it to see what’s truly there. We need to be mindful of that familiar saying that we just may be the only Bible that some people read.

“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.”