On Christmas, we remember the occasion of the birth of Jesus Christ.
We remember Mary, a pregnant teen whose dreams of romance gave way to a shotgun wedding and local gossip.
We remember Joseph, a working-class laborer everyone thought had been duped.
We remember the journey, a forced migration by a ruling class seeking to increase their tax revenue
We remember Bethlehem, and parents making do in a tough situation: motels booked solid, ‘no vacancy’ signs everywhere. But the baby’s coming, and there’s nothing to be done but to pull over at the nearest gas station.
We remember the manger, nothing more than a dog food bowl with old newspaper lining the sides to soften the surface.
We remember the shepherds, migrant field hands on minimum wage and working the night shift, who punched out early to go see a miracle.
We remember the Magi, the statesmen, ambassadors, and dignitaries who cancelled their meetings to travel and bear witness to the prophecy.
We remember the flight to Egypt, when undocumented emigrants fled the authorities across the border to start a new life together as a family.
We remember their return to Nazareth, the backwoods town where the Child would grow up.
We remember the Christ, the Savior, who began his life on this earth as an outcast, a worker, an immigrant, a nobody on the side of the road.
Will you welcome Him?
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