1st Day of Christmas: Song of the Messenger

SCENE:
And the angel came in unto her, and said, “Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee;  blessed art thou among women… And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a Son, and shalt call His name Jesus.”  (luke 1:28, 31-33)

SYNTAX:
Messenger.
an envoy, a prophet, a bearer of 
News 

SONG:
Wonder filled my face when His Highness gave the news
that I was to deliver, and my heart was quite confused.
He said He’d send His Son into a human’s womb
to be born upon the earth, and it would happen soon.
The Beloved would be leaving – an awesome revelation,
entrusted to this woman, just a mere creation.
The thoughts of the Omniscient I seldom can surmise,
but I always do His bidding, trusting He is wise.

Of the countless missions I’ve been given for His cause,
this one bears a sadness not seen since Eden’s loss.
His Highness calls it “love”, which no angel’s ever known.
The only ones that know it bear an image like His own.
This “love” has often grieved Him since that moment long ago.
But, somehow now His Son will enable it to grow.
This, a thought too lofty for angelic minds to see,
is the reason for my message to the one in Galilee.

Heaven holds a mystery, some enigmatic plan,
deep within Almighty that I don’t understand.
When You choose to send me, to go is my reply.
But, if I could be human, I know I’d ask You why.

SEARCH:
“things into which angels long to look” — I’ve always been fascinated by that verse in 1 Peter.  It reminds me that salvation is a plan designed for humans.  How gracious it was of God to create us with the ability to choose or reject Him.  It was at great personal cost to him, considering His powerful love for mankind.  How it must grieve Him to be rejected.

I’ve often wondered what angels think of humans and the plan God has to redeem us.  I’m sure they were baffled by man’s choice in Eden and equally as baffled by God’s choice to take on flesh.  I wonder from Gabriel’s perspective if the “good news” was really good from heaven’s side.  Although their view of God’s plan is somewhat veiled, their view of God Himself is unimpeded.  They must have missed the nearness of His presence on that Bethlehem night.

© 2008 Haley Montgomery

12 Days: The Backdrop

Come now, the curtain is about to recede
the backdrop poised in hope as you read
this simple re-telling, a story for the ages
may you, too, find yourself in these pages.

SYNTAX:
Nativity.
Birth, 
esp. the place, conditions, or circumstances of 
being born

Scene.
A picture or 
prospect as seen 
by a view; 
View

Song.
a melodious 
utterance, poetry, 
Verse, 
a lyric poem 
or ballad

“Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.” (luke 2:15)

1st Day:  Song of the Messenger
Gabriel

2nd Day:  Song of Humility
Mary

3rd Day:  Song of Faith
Joseph

4th Day:  Song of the Crowded

5th Day:  Song of the Babe

6th Day:  Song of the Forgotten
Shepherds

7th Day:  Song in the Heavens

8th Day:  Song of His Brightness

9th Day:  Song of the Seekers
the Magi

10th Day:  Song of Wonder
Mary

11th Day:  Song of Fulfillment
Simeon

12th Day:  Lullaby for a Savior 

© 2008 Haley Montgomery

Nativity Scenes

My mother has always made our house come alive at Christmas time.  Garlands ripe with “pretend” apples, candles of every variety, hand-made ornaments and wreaths, a collection of Santas we add to every year–we relished the fun of decorating the house.  Mama knows how to set the scene for celebration.  

As a child, she helped me decorate my room with my own little Christmas trappings.  A green yarn wreath she made with a pink bow.  The little lighted village we displayed on my dresser, tiny plastic houses and a church strung together with lights and the glittery snow fabric she found to put it on.  There were tiny dime store plastic snowmen and santas, stockings, Hallmark wall decorations, and a few of the shiny decorative gift packages she used in our living room.  Most of those items have made their way into my own holiday decorating, ready for my children to enjoy.

I remember the first Christmas after my parents moved from the house I grew up in.  We had such a labor of love finding new places for all our holiday favorites.  Sure enough, everything found a “spot,” and a larger house and the adjustments of a changing family made room for new traditions and celebrations just as sweet.

One of the mainstays of our Christmas decorating has been my mother’s nativity scene.  I don’t know when or where she got it, but I’m sure she saved up and found just the one that could become a yearly treasure.  It includes all the usual characters in the renaissance attire so often seen in manger scenes.  The stable is woven together with wooden pieces and is just big enough for the Holy Family.  All the other attendees can politely wait outside.  Mama always encircled the collection with green garland lit with a small strand of white lights.   In the living room on the Duncan Phyfe table my grandmother gave her, the nativity scene was accompanied by one of Grandaddy’s old Bibles–opened to Luke 2 with a red ribbon marking the place.  Mama kept the small candle-light lamp that normally resided on the table beside it to light the verses.  I remember being so excited as she replaced the bulb with a red one for the holidays.  It was the kind of scene that prompted intent looks.

Now I have my own nativity scene, one that’s become a tradition in our house.  My Aunt Betty gave is to us, purchased in Gatlinburg, TN on one of our family vacations.  I display it on top of our piano with my own set of tiny white lights entwined with green garland.  The wood-cut look and aged colors of the design suits us, and I enjoy putting white ribbon, doves and pine cones in place to compliment it.  The set did not include an angel, so I choose several from my angel collection each year to sing praises over the babe.  My children are mostly enamored by the lights right now.  I can see the glow reflected in their excited eyes.  They haven’t really started bringing the figurines to life in their minds, but it’s coming.  I hope I can create the same feel of wonder and sacred celebration that my mother did.

Why does a simple manger scene inspire such wonder in a child and in me today?  The pristine, well-designed figurines in a nicely kept stall and the quiet, attentive animals are probably very unlike those who witnessed the actual night of Jesus’ birth.  But, there’s something special about looking into the faces of Mary,  Joseph and Baby Jesus.  There’s something familiar about turning the shepherds, the three wisemen and the animals so that everyone can get a good view of the tiny Savior.  I can hear the detractors, now.  The scene most certainly bears little resemblance to the manger audience 2000 years ago.  But somehow it moves us. 

Perhaps the scene offers a tangible reminder of our God with us.  As we look into faces like our own, we see a God to whom we can relate–this God, who related to us on that foretold night in the most basic way.  He clothed himself in the flesh He had created and looked up into the eyes of men and women just like me.  Emmanuel.

Over the years, I’ve given Mama a collection of nativity scenes, some I’ve purchased and some I’ve created myself.  The first was a Native American version with Mary’s precious papoose painted in a Soutwestern blanket.  I purchased it on a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico.  My first hand-made version was made from pieces of wood branches painted to represent each character, the knots and bends of the wood mimicing bended knees.  Acorns gathered on the first trip to the Great Smoky Montains my (not quite) husband took with our family became another version with the wise men pulling their sleigh of seeds and pebbles to present to the tiny acorn King.  The Christmas after our wedding, I gave two scenes: one made from spools of thread and one made from tiny flower pots and leaves.  They represented Mama’s creativity in making her wedding dress into my own and my Dad’s labor of love in making the back yard grass finally grow for our reception.  The collection of poetry I’ll post in the days following is another nativity scene I created for Mama in the form of a hand-made book. 

The “scenes” to come are snapshots of the nativity from the perspectives of those God ordained to view it.  They are depictions of how each participant experienced “God with us.”  And, yet, they are also my own perspectives.  I can relate to each one.  They are the ways God has revealed Himself to me (again in new ways) through the rich pageant of life experiences.  Perhaps they can inspire your perspectives as well. The scenes are presented in several parts:

SCENE –  The Biblical account
SYNTAX –  Words or themes
SONG –  A nativity perspective presented in verse
SEARCH –  Renewed soul-searching reflections

I invite you to come again and read each day leading to Christmas.  Celebrate the birth of Jesus.  Look intently into the face of the tiny Savior.  Wonder as Emmanuel draws near.  May God richly bless us with His presence again this Christmas season.

Best Friend

“Jesus is my best friend
I can always go to Him
tell Him everything
I’m thinking of
my friend Jesus
whom I love.”

~ Twila Paris, My Best Friend
Bedtime Prayers CD

I put this song on a lullaby CD I made for my boys.  They listen to it every night as we’re tucking in and rubbing backs.  Lullabies seem to really boil ideas down to their basics, and listening to it has given me the opportunity to let the simple messages really sink in.  For me, the joys of the Christmas season usually include small pockets of melancholy for some reason, and this year is no different.  I’ve noticed a sense of loneliness in my spirit even though I’m almost constantly surrounded by people.  I want to sing this song.  But right now, I don’t know if I would describe Jesus as my best friend–a friend, a Saviour, to be sure, but not necessarily my BEST friend.  I want to live this song.  I need to.  I want to rest in Emmanuel and feel the nearness of “God with us.”  I want to approach Him as I would a person, to run to Him with the latest news, to share with him my thoughts and feelings, to rely on Him for encouragement and advice.  I want to love Him–all the more as I celebrate His birth.

Dumb Question?

“Do you wish to get well?”  That was the question that caught my attention as I read this story from the New Testament — an account of a desperate man in need of healing.  In need of hope more.

“Now there is in Jerusalem by the sheep gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew Bethesda, having five porticoes. In these lay a multitude of those who were sick, blind, lame, and withered, waiting for the moving of the waters; for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool and stirred up the water; whoever then first, after the stirring up of the water, stepped in was made well from whatever disease with which he was afflicted.

A man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he had already been a long time in that condition, He said to him, 

‘Do you wish to get well?’

The sick man answered Him, ‘Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I am coming, another steps down before me. Jesus said to him, ‘Get up, pick up your pallet and walk.’ Immediately the man became well, and picked up his pallet and began to walk. Now it was the Sabbath on that day.” (John 5:2-9)

I am 38 years old.  I don’t know how old this man was, but he had been ill as long as I’m alive.  He’d spent those years day after day waiting for an opportunity for healing — the stirring of the waters — only for someone else to jump ahead of him.  Maybe they were more agile, maybe more motivated, maybe they had more help, or maybe they just coveted the power of the stirring for more trivial maladies.  Regardless, he’d spent 38 years losing his place in line.

Imagine the disappointment and despair each time.  He probably didn’t even pay much attention to the rustle of the waters any longer.  What was the use?

Then, a man named Jesus stopped by Bethesda one day.  Of all the multitudes of afflicted waiting by the pool, Jesus walked up to this man (not by accident, I’m sure.)  Jesus knew that he had spent what probably seemed like a lifetime in this condition.  He knew each disappointment, each and every slighted moment.  But,what a question!

“Do you wish to get well?”

Why ask?  As I read, my first thought was “duh!”  Dumb question.  Was Jesus just making small talk?  Was He looking for a conversation starter?  Was he distracted?  Did He have some need to be asked, a vain acknowledgement of His power?  Was he mocking the man’s past efforts?

No. I know from my Bible that Jesus was not dumb, nor did He lack the ability to cut to the chase.  He seemed to always move with purpose and with kindness and forethought.  He certainly was not self-centered or vain — the cross is evidence of that.  So, maybe my impression of a dumb question was actually the most important question.

Maybe the man had gotten so tired and disappointed that his hope, the possibility of healing, had become dim.  Maybe it had almost flickered out.  Maybe after all these years, it was a question the man needed to answer.  Maybe his lack of hope had become the true barrier to healing.  Was the question meant as a reminder to fan the flame of faith again?

The man’s answer revealed the depth of his despair.  “Sir I have no man…”  There was noone.  He was resigned.  But, perhaps the soul search that question provided begged an answer so greatly that the man was forced to stare down despair.  The waters of his spirit were stirred.  He was confronted with a decision of faith, a call to action.  It’s time to move.

And, this time there was Someone to help him step into the waters of hope and be healed.  “Get up.  Pick up your pallet and walk.”  He had encountered the only man who would help him — the only many who could.  That man was Jesus.