I scanned the photo of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus.
My mom wore a satin choir robe with a long piece of material draped over her head and wrapped around her shoulders—the classic “church version” of how Mary must have dressed. Joseph stood, clad in the same choir robe, a striped head piece tied by a thin rope around his brow. And me, four months old, one hand extended from the swaddling wrap that bound me tightly. Even then, the weight of portraying the infant Christ, weighed heavily. Or it could have been my diaper. I’m not sure.
Every Christmas, Mom pulled out the family album and showed me that photo, and every year, I felt the weight. Was I worthy? Am I worthy?
Mary hardly had the opportunity to be a child before God thrust the responsibility of Christ in her arms. Yet, He saw her worth and honored her. Scripture gives the abbreviated version of the birth from the gospels, and we’re left to wonder about the thoughts of a child mother giving birth alone in poor conditions. Mary and Joseph had nothing but the clothes on their backs. Then, the time came for the baby to be born…and they had everything.
Each year, I look at the photo of our church nativity and wonder that the sandals of Jesus were big sandals to fill. Could a child, a girl, or a woman like me fill them?
The birth of Christ changed everything for everyone, and by human standards, we are not worthy, but by God’s hand, we are made worthy. Whether we’ve had the role of Jesus in a play or watched the story of His birth for the zillionth time, we all inherited the sandals when we gave our hearts to Him. And they are big sandals to wear.
On this Christmas day, remember when the time came that Jesus was born. Then, know that we can never fill the sandals from His feet, but we can walk in the footprints He leaves behind. And when we turn and look at where we were and where we are now, we can rest assured that He came and that He will come again.
(Photo courtesy of author.)
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