The Gifts We Want.

Here’s what I love: The gifts we want aren’t always the gifts we get.

A few weeks ago, we got to see our dear friends from South Africa who are in the states for a visit.  They have two sons.  Their oldest son is 3 years old.  He is precocious and handsome and tons of fun.  His large blue eyes turn into crescent moons when he smiles—it’s magical.  My daughter made him a rainbow loom bracelet.  She had made some for his parents and figured he might want one as well.  She carefully contemplated her color selection and worked hard on making it especially for him. 

When it was finished, she hurried across the room to present him with his gift, which she lovingly made with him in mind. 

“Here, Aaron, I made this for you.”  She announced triumphantly with a smile.

Aaron was working on selecting a song on the computer.  She was distracting him from his task.  Yet, he sensed that she was going to give him something, so he held out his hand.  When she placed the bracelet in his darling little palm, he quickly tried to hand it back. 

“I don’t want it.”  He said honestly.

Lexi’s face fell.  She really wanted him to love the gift she had designed especially for him. 

His dad dutifully helped him graciously accept the gift and Alexis felt better once Aaron slipped the bracelet on his wrist and went back to the computer.  (Btw, I do not fault a three-year-old boy for not wanting a rubber band bracelet…it’s completely understandable and my own kids have acted the same way on occasion.)

It’s happened to all of us as kids--

We wanted a Barbie but we got a drawing pad.

We wanted Legos but we got socks.

We wanted a Play Station but we got a dictionary.

We wanted a doll but we got a puzzle.

We wanted a football but we got a board game.

It happens even today.  And just like the children in the above scenarios, we grumble.  Maybe not aloud, but we definitely complain in our heads. 

Fake smile and a “thank you” gets uttered.

Inside, frowning, feeling disgruntled and disappointed, we think, “this is not what I wanted.”

This applies spiritually as well. 

We want the cute, miracle baby.

We want a joyful chorus of angels.

We want fuzzy sheep and amazed shepherds. 

Fortunately, that’s what we get at Christmas time.  However, that’s just the wrapping paper for the real gift….which, often, we don’t want.

We don’t want wailing.

We don’t want torture.

We don’t want blood or crying or mourning or agony or filth or ugliness or injustice.

But these are all part of the gift.  God incarnate, submerged in our messed up world, bloodied and crying out in agony.  We want the baby in the straw, but we get the dirty, naked man on the cross.  We want happy stories of birth and wise men. But we get the story of death and doubters.

We grumble and turn our eyes away from this repulsive gift, not realizing that it is the one thing we need.  Because, it should have been us on that cross—wailing and tortured and bleeding and crying in agony in punishment for our sin.  Instead, the sinless one—that pure and perfect baby—steps in front of us to absorb the wrath of God and experience the forsakenness that we deserve. 

Even though we like to say that it’s what is on the inside that counts, we all know that we are drawn to beautifully wrapped packages.  So, God, in his brilliance, wrapped His gift for us in the most intriguing of papers: A beautiful virgin, astonished shepherds, a host of angels, a giant star, and an innocent miracle-baby.  The wrapping invites us in, but when we discover the gift inside, we may turn away from the raw and ugly cross.  But if we take that gift in our hands for a moment—if we accept it—an amazing thing happens.  The cross transforms into an empty tomb, a flash of light, sins washed away, and eternity with our loving Creator. 

And, because some of the best gifts are useful, this gift also does work in our own heart—filling it with love and joy and peace—all of the things promised before the miracle baby was even born.  We may want a baby in the straw under a star, but what we get is eternity with the perfect Lover of our souls.

Hallelujah!

Merry Christmas indeed.