When your son is baby Jesus
I didn’t see it coming. We were approaching the middle of November. Our Christian Education director was talking about the upcoming Christmas pageant.
Her thought never occurred to me.
“I think your foster son should play baby Jesus.”
A slight pause followed.
“I mean he’s not a newborn,” she added in the silence. “But he is a baby.”
Pastors never let down Christian Education directors.
It took me a moment, but her idea was a good one. Actually, it was a really good one. That my then seven-month-old had a full head of hair and his third tooth made no difference. We had a real, live, nativity scene Son of God among us.
The days that passed since my star was cast were busy. Preparation for Advent and other pastoral responsibilities is consuming in the best ways. I didn’t really think much more about my bouncing baby being the Prince of Peace.
But just as God spoke into Mary’s and Joseph’s lives (and just as God speaks into all our lives), God spoke into my story, our story.
For example, our 3 or 4 AM moments on the baby’s changing table changed. What had been intimate and connecting times became sacred. Yes. Sacred. I wasn’t looking for blessed moments here. Um. I was changing diapers!
My innocent, sweet, impatient, irritable, silly and trusting bundle of joy would look up at me. His overpowering love for me and my overpowering love for him gained something deeper, something better. In what became this heavenly exchange (and I can describe this inner connectivity no more accurately than this), I began to realize very slowly, very gently and very clearly a bit more of who our Savior is, and how our Savior came to us.
Jesus. A squirmy, sometimes fussy, always delightful (even when fussy) baby. Jesus. God in flesh. The Creator’s one and only Son. A squirt. A pea pod. Innocent. Delightful. Wonderful. Cooing. Giggling. Laughing.
God came to us as joy!
Fast forward. It’s the morning of the pageant.
Now I have two directions here. First, don’t be late. Sunday school starts at 9 AM, not 9:05 AM.
I just remind everyone that I am single and have five kids under the age of 9. And a baby.
Second, on the morning of the pageant, I am to bring with me baby Jesus’ costume—a solid, simple, white onesie.
Days in advance, as any try hard parent would do, I put this solid, simple, white onesie in a prominent, secure location up high on a bathroom cabinet.
I’m not going to screw this up, I thought.
I screwed this up.
I forgot it.
We are two minutes from the church when I realize where the onesie is. The clock in the van reads 8:59 AM.
Yes, the solid, simple, white onesie that I set in a prominent, secure location up high on a bathroom cabinet is still in its prominent, secure location up high on a bathroom cabinet.
Baby Jesus is wearing his travel clothes which includes a bright red, long sleeve sweatshirt with a firetruck on his chest.
Turn back? My oldest, the one who contemplates the origin of sin like no one I have ever met, says, “No, dad. Keep going.”
We arrive. At the door, our Christian Education director is full of grace and love. “It’s okay,” she says with what is a sincere, warm smile.
So yes, at Harford First Congregational-UCC in Harford, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, December 18th, 2022, baby Jesus wore a bright red, long sleeve sweatshirt with a firetruck on his chest.
As we move into 2023, I hope Baby Jesus—that is, the real baby Jesus—gives you a sincere, warm smile. I pray this smile delightfully surprises you in some way. Perhaps it’s with the sight of a now 8-month-old in a bright red, long sleeve sweatshirt.
So yes, at Harford First Congregational-UCC in Harford, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, December 18th, 2022, Baby Jesus wore a bright red, long sleeve sweatshirt with a firetruck on his chest.
As we move into 2023, I hope Baby Jesus—that is, the real Baby Jesus—gives you a sincere, warm smile. I pray this smile delightfully surprises you in some way. Perhaps it’s with the sight of a now 8-month-old in a bright red, long sleeve sweatshirt.
I think of what our Christian Education director said at the door weeks ago. As our congregation begins a sermon series this coming Sunday about it being okay (when you’re not okay), I pray you see Jesus, hear His laugh, feel His love, and, as my oldest son advises, keep going.
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Alas, I don’t have a great picture of my Baby Jesus in his signature red shirt, but share this divine one from the photoshoot I created days before the December 18th pageant.
Lol. BEAUTIFUL!!!