Well... at least, it is the middle of the greatest story ever told.
I mean, it certainly is not the beginning of the story. Christmas is the climax that grows from thousands of years of waiting and expectation. If you listen to the narrative of Scripture, God seeks communion from the very beginning. He walks with his people in the garden, makes covenant with them in spite of their failure, frees them from slavery, walks them through the desert, gives them a home, visits them when they won't call him, and calls them through his prophets to give their hearts back to him so that he can be their God and they can be his people. And then... Christmas happens.
And it certainly is not the end of the story. It's more like the beginning of the end of the story. The story ends in the wonderful glorious day when all of reality is consumed by the more real reality of the kingdom of God. Heaven. This is the final victory of life--no more tears, no more death, no more mourning. In place of death is life and light. And God is with his people and they are with him, and he is their God. Communion.
But the middle--that is the Christmas story. The story of encounter. God with us--Communion. One of the things I love most about the Christmas story is that it is the end of the story folded over into the middle. Jesus who is eternal communion with the Father and Spirit is given to us as a baby so that we can be given back to the God in the end.
The beginning is communion. The end is communion. The middle is communion.
And what story do I tell? Uh-oh. My story seems more about personal gain, personal space, personal comfort, and personal advancement to be a story of communion. My story is a story of selfishness. I have lost the plot. I have a suspicion that I am not alone...
May God give us eyes to see the beautiful story he is telling, hearts to cherish others as Christ himself, and miracle of grace to tell this story with him. Communion.
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