The whole message of Christmas, and of our lives, can be summed in just two words: Unto You.
Consider for a moment that Unto You is where it all starts. In the beginning, says the Good Book, after God lit up the darkness with starry lights, and carved up the purple mountains majesty and planted the fruited plains; after God thought up the dolphin and the prickly porcupine, and made up a home for them in the forest and the sea; after God built up the tall oaks and the tiny marigolds, God then turned to Adam and Eve and said, “Unto you I give it all to care for and to keep.” What an extraordinary sign of trust and grace on the part of God. Adam and Eve hadn’t even been around on the earth long enough to put up a mailbox. Even for being naked, they weren’t much to look at—made from the dust of the ground, unimpressive, barely noticeable. And yet, “Unto You.” Unto you the wonders of this world.
You have to wonder if Adam and Eve were glad for the gift. When God held out the Divine Hand, did they say with surprise, “For me?” Did they reach out their own hand and then pull it back a bit, nervous to accept the responsibilities of such a gift? Did they think about what receiving the gift would mean come the weekend? “You know Eve, I was going to break ground this Saturday on that 4,000 square-footer you’ve been wanting me to construct for when we retire, but maybe God means to tell us we don’t need all that space just for us.”
The truth is, though, when God said to Adam and Eve, “Unto You,” they took it to the bank. They either forgot, or just plain old didn’t care, that the world wasn’t made for them, that they didn’t own it, that, quite the opposite, they were made for the world.
If you read the whole Bible, you’ll see that out of its thousands of pages, there’s only about four wherein all is as it should be. Where God says, “Unto You,” and everyone knows what to do with the gift. Give thanks and praise for it, open it up, share it, spread it around until everyone and everything is covered in its extraordinary grace. But that’s only about four pages of the story. Most everything else is about what happens when Unto You gets turned into Unto Me. When that happens, nations go to war, power runs amuck, the earth suffers, the meek suffer, the poor suffer, compassion suffers, neighborliness suffers.
In spite of all this, there are some who still look up at the stars. On a night when what has come unto us is a world still anxious with pandemic, still burdened with sickness, still divided by fear, still absent of enough room in the inn for all, there are some who still dare to knock on a stranger’s door asking to be let in. There are some who still keep an open heart and hand, who sing with angels and refuse to stay home when the shepherds say, “Let’s go to Bethlehem.” What in God’s name are they doing if not holding out hope that in this weary world there is a better gift coming unto us still?
I have to wonder if, when God said to Mary, “Unto you a child is going to be born,” Mary didn’t laugh nervously and say, “Is that a question, God?” But it’s not a question. It’s a statement, a glorious, grace-filled statement. If we choose, it can also be a promise.
For as many as there are who wake up each Christmas hoping to hear, “Unto you a bike!” Or, “Unto you a gold ring!” there are others who would love nothing more than to hear a knock at the door, and opening it, find that a child, or a long-lost friend, or an old dream they once thought had all but run out on them, has in fact come unto them, to claim them, to say, “I belong to you. I am…unto…you.”
You don’t have to be Mary, though, to know there are no such guarantees in this world, not even at Christmastime. Not all children do come home, some shepherds can’t run, or even get up on their own. There are virgins who will never get anything good, and angels can fall from glory. And yet, unto all these, UNTO YOU, God comes on the altar of a manger to offer us the gift of a child—God’s own. In the babe Jesus, God comes to be born unto Mary, and if unto the likes of Mary, then unto the likes of the empty and lowly, unto me, unto you, unto this whole wide blessed world. That no one should be without love.
PleaseGrace 