Published at Family Christian.
I light the green balsam-scented candle on my kitchen island, settle onto the stool at the counter with my graph paper notebook (oh, the appeal of the tidy grids), and begin to make lists for the weeks leading up to Christmas. After the joy-filled, carb-filled days of Thanksgiving, it brings me comfort and joy to turn my attention to planning for Christmas.
But as I try to focus, my mind drifts to the verse I’d just read about Jesus’ birth: “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn,” (Luke 2:7, ESV).
No place for Jesus.
I look back at my neatly categorized lists and see, with so many sparkly, festive Christmas traditions and so many gifts to buy and places to be, how easy it would be to fill the days with baking and parties and shopping and unintentionally leave no room for Jesus.
If I’m being honest, I’ve judged the innkeeper and his family in my heart, wondering how they could turn Mary and Joseph away. But that day in Bethlehem, with so many people stretching the town’s seams, I imagine they had full lists of their own. I believe they wanted to have room – they just simply didn’t.
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