In the Inn

If it feels, then, like you're spending this season of Advent in the inn, you're not alone. 

Away from home, a few things packed, living out of a suitcase, surrounded by other folks who have also traveled far from home with a few things packed, living out of a suitcase, bumping through the hallways, trying to get where you're going around all the other folks who are in your way while trying not to be in their way, candles burning all times of the night, music playing, impossible to escape the noise...

This is Christmas. 

In the inn. 

This is what it's like when there's always somewhere to be, something to do, someone to meet up with. When there is always some sort of stimulus around you, no peace and quiet, no room. 

Do you know what it meant to have no room at the inn? It meant there was not another single space in the entire building to stick someone else. It didn't mean that all of the 40x60 rooms with big, queen beds were reserved by nice couples and families with children who had paid months in advance and were probably only using half of that space, but it was theirs anyway; it meant there was not another single place to lay another single cot for another single person to squeeze into the inn for the night. 

So if you're thinking, sure, but when the Jews were done with the census, at least they could go back to the hotel and relax, think again. There wasn't space at the inn even for the persons that were staying there. There was room, but there wasn't space. 

That's what the culture does to Christmas. 

The culture keeps you away from home, unsettled, in a place where there's room, but no space, so you're constantly bumping into something or someone, always somewhere to be, something else to do. There is no refuge from the noise, from the lights, from the smells (WHY does the world think Christmas smells like cinnamon?). There's something about this season that always seems to keep us from being able to put two feet down at the same time or stretch out our arms a little bit. We curl up to sleep like we used to sleep under the Christmas tree as kids, but now, we're curling up just because we're exhausted and an actual bed seems like a luxury...like a space we don't have. 

I won't say the world has planned to do it this way; it's just sort of happened. Over the years, as we've put more and more emphasis on the season, as we've taken away the waiting and the anticipation, as we have excessively Christmased ourselves out, we have simply...moved into the inn. 

Many of us have forgotten there even is a manger. 

This year, it's time we take back our Christmas - our real Christmas. 

Let's move back out to the barn.