A Christmas Reflection

By Jim Wright, lead chaplain

The seasons of advent and Christmas centre around the expectations and event of a birth. It is the story of a pregnancy. A time of waiting and anticipation.

I learned an insight to this when my wife was pregnant with our first child. Everything was new to us and we wanted to immerse ourselves in the full experience.

We bought a library of books on pregnancy. I read magazine articles written by first time fathers on how they coped with the big event and devoured every last morsel of advice that was offered.

We joined antenatal classes, getting detailed information on every question ever possibly conceived (no pun intended) about pregnancy.

We talked to the blossoming bump regularly and even gave our unborn child a nickname, “smudge”; because he looked like a smudge on the first scan.

The whole nine month wait was a time of wonder, mystery and awe.

Our second child was a rather different story: we bought no books. I read no magazine articles. No antenatal classes were attended. No nicknames were attributed, in fact, the bump, hardly got talked to at all.

Now don’t get me wrong: it’s not that we weren’t looking forward to a second child. He was very much wanted, planned and anticipated. It was just that... well, the mystery had gone. I had been down this road before and it was...known.

At Christmas-time, I often find myself in danger of repeating that experience. Christmas again: we did this last year; I know how this goes and I fit snugly into the fun and tinsel and busyness and presents and mince pies and…it’s good, it’s fun, but it’s…it’s known. It is easy sometimes, for me at least, to lose the wonder, the mystery, the excitement and the meaning of the season because it is so familiar.

But Christmas is all about a birth (and every birth holds mystery and wonder) but at Christmas we’re asked to consider the birth of God on this planet. A birth that presents the possibility that God is no longer remote or at a distance, but here with us: tiny and vulnerable: A God who gets hungry and thirsty; a God who gets hot and cold; A God who laughs and cries; A God who gets his hands dirty; A God who can bleed and die: What type of God is this?

At Christmas-time we are invited to do nothing less than redefine deity.

We went for another scan for our second son. In the midst of what we thought was the familiar. And as we watched the live monitor, his tiny mouth was moving up and down and it looked a little like he was singing. It was amazing: suddenly the mystery and wonder came flooding back.

This Christmas, in the midst of everything that is familiar, why not take a moment to invite the wonder, mystery and awe to flood back in as we ponder afresh this special birth.