There is such ambition that surrounds Christmas Day, such build up, most of the people I know are flapping around like headless chickens, somehow caught up in the desperate attempt to have bought all the food they want by today or tomorrow, knowing that the shelves will soon be bare as we all prepare for A Day Without Shopping on Sunday.
There is a lot of ambition that surrounds the birth of Jesus. Read the first couple of chapters of Luke and see where all the emphasis is. It’s on the prophecies, the preparing, the call on John the Baptist, the wonder of God once more speaking to his people, the hope of the consolation of Israel, the expectation is enormous. The angels announce that the Saviour is born. The Saviour. The one promised over hundreds and hundreds of years is here. Now. Run, get to the manager, adore, worship, wonder.
I’m not sure what the shepherds felt the week after Jesus was born. I’m not sure how Mary and Joseph felt years into Jesus life after he had learnt to walk, talk and generally grew from a baby, into a child, to a man. I’m sure there might have been an element of anti climax. The promised one is here. But we still have to wait. He’s a mere baby, a crying pooing baby. Christmas day will be here soon, but we still have to wait. The promised one is here in the midst of our lives but we still have to wait and watch for his coming again. Anticlimax is good because it reminds us that there is yet more to wait for, yet more to ponder and reveals our thirst for the wonder of what is still to come.