Before Christmas was a cultural event

Last night my Dad was singing in the massed Carols by the Bay Choir so me and Mum went along to watch. I felt like I was in Sydney, it was such a glitsy, polished affair. I also felt like I was in America, with all those modern carols about Santa, wint'ry streets and huddling by the fire with family and friends.

Christmas as a cultural event is so ingrained in me that I find it difficult to appreciate as a Christian - its predetermined expression somehow strips it of authenticity. But last night was different. I sang through the Christmas story in The First Noel surrounded by unbelievers ("The first noel, the angels did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay . . . noel, noel, noel, noel, born is the King of Israel! They looked up and saw a star shining in the east beyond them far . . .  noel, noel, noel, noel, born is the King of Israel! . . . Then entered in those wise men three full reverently upon their knee, and offered there in his presence their gold and myrrh and frankincense" etc), and I thought, I actually believe these words, this is exactly what I think happened in that place all those years ago. I don't just love it as a heartwarming tradition; I love it because that sweet, prosaic, magnificent story changed everything. This wasn't a simple, beneficent act of God; it was God himself getting dirty on this planet, born onto a muddy floor amidst all the blood and gunk. This story is as gritty and confounding as it is beautiful.