This Advent, something I've been coming up against with God is the need for certainty. The need to know, to be prepared, to understand. To hold the map in my hands in confident awareness of the steps needed to get from point A to point B.
But recently, I've felt a nudge to remember the empty space of the Nativity scene, the space that is left empty until the very last day. During December, all the other things are set in motion; orbiting, it seems, aimlessly around this empty space. The shepherds wander towards it. The farm animals gaze down at nothing in an intent manner.
Joseph and Mary gaze down with adoration and love at - an emptiness in the middle of the manger.
Why is Mary bending down over space, why are the Magi travelling toward it?
It is helpful to remember that we cannot receive a gift without first having empty hands. Jesus, as the baby - I can't hold Him, can't receive Him, unless my arms are first empty.
The practice of the nativity scene is a gentle reminder to all of us, I think - of God's long vision. Of how God prepares us for himself, leaving the best for last. In the meantime, think of all the people who received these strange promptings, to go - follow the star, go to Bethlehem. Start moving in this general direction. Start walking.
God's timing is perfect - a symphony of movement, cues, invisible preparations, infinitesimal stokes of a pen to orchestrate a beautiful, mysterious plan - the unfolding of his most perfect Gift.
My brother got engaged a few days ago (congratulations John and Becca!) And hearing the pride and joy in his voice as he described the way he planned it was really exciting. First, he ordered a custom-crafted puzzle, a picture of them together. When Becca opened this present, she was pleasantly surprised by his planning. But then, as they put the puzzle together, she noticed that there were a few pieces missing. At first this was a great disappointment - that they couldn't finish the picture. But then, he brought out another package that he had "just received" in the mail that day. They opened the package, and found the pieces that had been missing. As they put the pieces into the puzzle, Becca saw that the complete puzzle read, "Will you marry me?"
As I think about the way my brother, the now groom-to-be, planned each move so carefully and with such excitement to reveal the gift to his now fiancée, I think about how clearly he mirrors to me God's careful and creative planning in revealing and bringing Jesus into the world.