Kari Kampakis headline
Several years ago, in the midst of Christmas holidays, I saw a church sign that caught my eye. The marquis read, “It’s a Boy,” and on top there was a big blue bow.
Never before had I seen baby Jesus celebrated this way, and all I could think as I turned into my neighborhood was what a statement it’d make if everyone decorated their mailboxes with blue bows during the month of December. As much as I love the festive and beautiful décor of Christmas, it’s easy to forget what this season is really about: the birth of one very important baby.
And does anything evoke a smile—or better announce the arrival of a baby boy—like the sight of a blue bow?
This time of year, we hear a lot about scaling back and simplifying to remember the true meaning of Christmas. Sometimes we stick to our guns; other times we give in, unable to resist the urge to create lavish and unforgettable memories. Increasingly I hear of more families giving just three gifts per child—the number Jesus received—and reading Bible verses on Christmas Eve. Many also host “Happy Birthday, Jesus” parties to help children focus, at least temporarily, on something besides presents.
But one thing I’ve never been asked to do is to reflect on Jesus’s birth as I would the birth of my own children. Their birth days were the best days of my life, the ultimate happiness. A rush of emotions overwhelmed me as my heart flooded with love, gratitude, awe and amazement. In those moments, I felt a purpose and unwavering joy toward life. Time stood still, and all the world made sense.
It seems to me that the feelings I experienced when meeting my children are the same feelings I should work toward on Christmas. My love for baby Jesus should, in fact, surpass those for my family, for He is my Savior. All babies are miracles, but what happened in Nazareth 2,011 years ago is the mother of all miracles, with life-changing consequences for mankind.
Jesus entered this world under the humblest circumstances. There was no hospital, no physician, no heart monitor or luxury suite. His arrival came without fanfare, beneath a starry night and among animals. This simple beginning—hardly befitting for a King—is full of lessons. Above all, it reminds us that it’s not the circumstances we’re born into, but what we do with our life that matters.
C.S. Lewis once said, “I believe in Christ like I believe in the sun, not because I see it, but because by it I see all things.” Maybe we weren’t witnesses to the birth of Jesus, but we can be witnesses to the faith, celebrating Him with the same enthusiasm that we celebrate other babies: with hope, love and gratitude. Let us take pride in His birth as if it happened to us because in many ways it did.
Happy Birthday, Jesus, and welcome to our world.
