Who told you this is what Christmas is for?

I hope I never get over the ridiculous grace of God becoming a baby, being born in the humblest of settings, and entering the mess our sin created in this world he created. What a love! What a gift! What absurdity!

That's what was on my mind yesterday afternoon, as we took our annual trip to Boyce Farms here in Raleigh to cut our own tree. I'll admit I prefer the variety behind us in that picture, but those trees grow in the western part of the state, and I'm not up for that drive just to cut a tree. So we go for the less showy varieties that will grow around here, as I try to remind myself that Christmas isn't about the photoshoot-ready magazine-suitable professional-looking trimmings.

It's about a God who wrapped himself in flesh to be the sacrifice we could never offer out of our own chaos. If you're looking for a blog about where to find that perfect garland or how to make a dozen kinds of cookies for gifts or 27 must-have decorations for a Happy Birthday, Jesus party... well, then click that little x to close this window, because this is not that kind of place.

We're a messy family. Patu's shoes were on the wrong feet, Zoe looked like she was drooling blood as she joyfully ate her candy cane, Philip said he didn't feel well and we dragged him out anyway and then he was diagnosed with pneumonia today because we're great parents or something like that, and... well, you get the picture. We're a party of eight, and our real world includes pictures like the one below in which one of our five year olds decided it would be hilarious to pretend he was pooping a tree.

Somehow I don't think that picture is going to end up on Pinterest, y'all. (Also, did I really just share that? Yes, yes, I did.) But somehow in all the tinsel and tradition and tree-trimming and twinkle lights, I keep finding myself forgetful that Christmas is all about mess.

When my daughter doesn't offer the smile I was hoping for as she "helped" Daddy with the saw, I often fail to remember that another Father made a plan to rescue his disobedient children before time even began.

As we hunt for the perfect tree to grace our family room, I can easily lose sight of the grace available each moment for all my imperfections.

As my precious ones point out tree after tree with exclamations, "What about this one!," my mind jumps to the bare patches or odd shapes of each one without pausing to grieve my loss of the childhood faith they still hold.

In their eyes, Christmas is full of magic,

not the false kind written about in novels and playing out on the big screen

but a truly magical plan of redemption, drafted by the all-knowing one who could foresee our failing before they bit into the forbidden fruit.

Genesis 3:11 holds the most convicting question in all of scripture, in my opinion. Do you remember what God asks them?

"Who told you that you were naked?"

When I say I'm following the Christ child but spend more time seeking the sparkles than the sacred, I hear, "Who told you this is what Christmas is for?"

An infant who entered the world in a stable full of dirt and animals and more manure than our modern nativity scenes show grew into a man who defeated sin, not with a blade but with his own death.

To a world that was lost, love came down and put on skin.

(Did you see the lost one in the picture above? It's like "Where's Waldo?" Patu edition.)

Christmas isn't about the perfect tree or the perfect Advent devotional or the perfect matching pajamas or the perfect wrapping job or any of the other worldly perfections we strive for.

Christmas is about our imperfect world being interrupted by the only child who could lead us out of our darkness and into his light.

As we enter these last days before the beauty of a newborn king breaks forth from this season of waiting, I know I'll be distracted at least a dozen times more by the shiny, the sparkly, and even the sin of this world, bogging myself down with all the wrong trappings.

"Who told you this is what Christmas is for?"

I'm the one, along with my husband, who will tell them what Christmas is for. And as every parent knows, they are listening more closely to what my actions say than to what I share during our dinnertime Bible stories.

As they're listening to me, I hope they'll hear what Christmas is truly for.

I pray their eyes will see a mother who loves the Lord more than she loves finding this year's perfect tree.

And just as they rest in the arms of their Daddy, I'm gladly burying myself in my Father so that they will see more of him and less of me.

And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”

And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”

And the angel answered her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God. And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”

(Luke 1:30-37 ESV)