At the heart of the Christmas story lies the most astounding suggestion — that the power that holds all things in being, the majesty that is beyond our imagining, the ultimate force in the universe, has become a human being, has become one of us. And all for love.
Henry Carter was a minister, and in charge of a home for emotionally disturbed children.
It was Christmas Eve, and Henry was busy with preparations for the carol service, when one of the staff came to fetch him — there was a crisis upstairs in the children’s bedrooms. A little 8-year old named Tommy had crawled way under his bed and was refusing to come out.
When Henry reached the bedroom nothing could be seen of Tommy. Not so much as a hair or a toe poked out from under the bed. So Henry stood beside the bed and began talking quietly to the boy.
He talked about the brightly lit tree down in the foyer and the packages underneath it and all the other good things waiting for Tommy out beyond that bed. No answer.
Very conscious of the time this was taking — there was still work to do for the carol service — Henry got down on his hands and knees and lifted the bedspread. Two enormous, sad blue eyes met his.
Henry could have pulled the boy out easily, but it was not pulling out that Tommy needed, but trust; so crouched there on all fours, Henry launched into the menu for the Christmas Eve dinner that was going to be served after the service. He told Tommy about the stocking with his name on it.
Silence and not a move from Tommy. No indication that Tommy heard or cared at all about Christmas. Henry was beginning to feel a bit foolish. After all he was a man of authority and this was an undignified position to be in, especially with his staff watching. But he could think of no other way to make contact with Tommy, so he got down flat on the floor and wriggled in under the bed to lie alongside Tommy.
For what seemed like a long time, he lay there with his cheek pressed against the floor. He talked about the big wreath at the door and the candles in the windows. He reminded Tommy about the carol the children were going to sing together. Then Henry ran out of things to say and simply waited there beside Tommy. As he lay under the bed, waiting in silence, a small, cold hand crept into his.
"You know, Tommy," Henry said after a bit, "It’s kind of close quarters under here. How about you and me get out where we can stand up?"
And so they did, but slowly, in no hurry. As they slid out from under the bed Henry realised that he had been given a glimpse of the mystery of Christmas. How foolish of God to get down to our level, even to get under the bed with us. Through stars and mountains and the whole majestic creation, God had shown how much God loves us; God had spoken to us through prophets and poets, but we would not listen. And so God decided to come to us, to get right down under the bed where we had hidden ourselves in our loneliness and alienation.
At the beginning of John’s gospel, it is put like this: "The Word became flesh and was at home among us". This is the good news — God has come as one of us.
In Jesus, God has a name — "God saves" and "God is with us".
In Jesus, we can see God face to face.
May you know the love that comes to you at Christmas.
- The Rev Anne Thomson is a minister at First Church, Dunedin.
