JESUS BELONGS IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR MESS | A Christmas Devotion

"Wait! That's not where He goes!" I grab Baby Jesus from my husband's helping hand.

Based on my biblical knowledge, I know how to depict Christ and His birth in proper nativity scene fashion.

Christ in the center. Mary adoring. Joseph standing guard. 

Shepherds close, but not quite there yet. 

Wise men only beginning their journey.

"There!" I stand back and ignore my husband's smirk. Perfection.

For years, while my kids were little, I was forced to place the manger out of reach to keep the scene intact. But now that they're grown, I have the 1,000 square feet and all the minimalistic Christmas decorations to myself.

Thus, the tree is skinny. The garland is fluffed. The bows are crisp and taut.

The nativity scene can finally take center stage—Emmanuel, God with us.

It's almost like Christmas heaven.

But once a year, my granddaughters invite their entire friend group over for the Christmas parade. Twenty kids. One tiny living room. Pure chaos.

Marshmallows and hot cocoa sliding in socks around every corner. 

Candy canes abandoned on couches. 

Cookie crumbs ground into cushions.

It's hard to police the situation, so I throw up my hands. "Jesus, take the wheel! And maybe the egg nog, too?”

But after the house goes quiet, I have time to reflect.

I grin while I sweep, fold up the blankets, and gather my thoughts. 

Why was it so hard for me to just let go?

Is this what Mary and Joseph felt like? Shepherds? Wise Men? They all had plans for their quiet night before God interrupted with His glory.

I put the broom down and smile. God's plans are always better than ours.

Then I notice the nativity scene.

Wait.

Something's... off.

Or is something finally in its proper place?

Mary, Joseph, every shepherd and wise man, creatures great and small—all the figurines are closer to the Christ Child than before.

Exactly how Christmas should be.

For years, I honored Jesus by keeping Him at a distance. I tried to preserve His image for future generations.

But striving for perfection, I pulled the newborn King out of everyone's hands.

Emmanuel came down to be touched.

Kissed.

Hugged by sticky little hands and broken, desperate hearts.

Jesus came to move among us, so we can live and move with Him.

Our lives are meant to be entangled with His, not wrapped tight, but torn open with joy.

As always, the kids got it right.

O come, let us adore Him in the unexpected mayhem of this glorious Christmas season.

Jesus belongs right here with us in the middle of our mess.