It's Christmas Eve tomorrow.
Seems a little surreal.
The tree is up. I've been singing Christmas carols. I'm about to put the fruit mix to soak overnight for Jesus' birthday cake. Yet it still doesn't quite 'feel' like Christmas if you know what I mean?
But then I guess it didn't feel like an amazing event to Mary and Joseph as they trudged into the damp, smelly stable. It probably felt like an average, cold winter's night as the shepherds settled their sheep while the sun sank slowly behind the horizon. And it was. On one dimension it was just another night. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing abnormal. Just a small boy born into poverty, like oh so many others that night and every night since.
But on another level, everything was different. Our calendar is based upon this event. Yearly, we celebrate it. Christmas. CHRIST mas. The day, the moment, when the king of all glory laid down his rights, his title, his position of rulership and justice, to be one of us. The night he was born into abject poverty, cruelty and pain.
He lived like us so that we can be like him.
And that fact remains regardless of whether or not I 'feel' like it's Christmas.