“You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you.” — Andy Warhol
I can’t help but think of Warhol’s statement in relation to Christmas. The holiday often loses it luster in the midst of parties, décor, and wrapping paper. In other instances, the season heralds a worn-out story. The account’s been heard and repeated so many times that it contains no verve and vigor.
And yet—
Some aspect of the season always captures my attention, renews the thrill. I sometimes find it in rereading the seemingly “worn-out” story, especially if I take the time to slow and contemplate. I try to picture the scene, to think about what it would have been like to have an angel suddenly appear, to leave everything familiar and comfortable for the unknown and scary.
Mary faced the prospect of stoning. Joseph could lose his social standing; he actually does lose his home for a while. (When a bloodthirsty king seeks your kid’s life, you leave your carpenter’s shop in Nazareth and take up residence in Egypt.) The shepherds leave their sheep, much like the disciples leave their nets. The wise men travel, presumably for years, to meet the Christ-child.
Other times, I find the thrill of Christmas in music. Certain songs recapture wonder and cause my heart to rejoice. Relient K’s “I Celebrate the Day” always works; Matt Thiesen shares the gospel in a lyric.
And the first time that You opened Your eyes
Did You realize that You would be my Savior
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever
//
To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me
In the hope that what You did
That You were born so that I might really live
And I, I celebrate the day
That You were born to die
So I could one day pray for You to save my life
As I hear the words, the “boredom” falls away. The thrill reignites. My heart fills, again and again, with awe and wonder. Christmas is new again; Christmas is come.
Image: Jeff Weese (Creative Commons)