EVERYDAY ADVENTURES

The Messy Miracle of Christmas

The holiday season is finally here! That means it’s time to dig out the decorations, put on the Christmas music and get ready for your kids or grandkids to ruin your perfectly designed Christmas cookies. Oh, wait, maybe that’s just me.

I’ve decorated cut-out sugar cookies all my life. I was no Martha Stewart as a child, but I do remember sticking to the fundamentals of Christmas cookie decor. Santas were frosted red with white beards. Trees were green with multicolored bulbs. Stars were yellow. Snowmen were white with blue hats. It was a no-brainer.

Back in my day, we didn’t have a bunch of fancy food coloring, just the four packs of red, green, blue and yellow from the JayC store, and that was all I needed. When I was done, my cookies looked like edible Christmas cards. Sure, they were a bit messier, but they exuded a classic Christmas vibe.

Back in my day, we didn’t have a bunch of fancy food coloring, just the four packs of red, green, blue and yellow from the JayC store, and that was all I needed. When I was done, my cookies looked like edible Christmas cards. Sure, they were a bit messier, but they exuded a classic Christmas vibe.

But kids these days? It’s a whole different story. When my daughters came along, I couldn’t wait to introduce them to the joys of decorating Christmas cookies. Little did I know how irresponsible they would be.

Once they got their hands on the frosting, it was like one big science experiment. Let’s mix colors and see what we get. Purple reindeer? Sounds great. Brown stars? No problem.

What were they thinking? All I could guess is that this creative gene must have come from their mother’s side of the family.

And then they would start in with the sprinkles! They didn’t understand that the word “sprinkle” isn’t just a noun but a verb. Instead of sprinkling them on their cookies, they would dump them like a construction worker pouring sand into a concrete mixer.

It didn’t end there, however. After my oldest daughter cut out three or four cookies, she would get bored and start making her own shapes. At that point, it just became modeling clay. She would roll the dough into balls, cylinders, giant lumps or just whatever seemed fun. Some she would even fill with mounds of sprinkles, like sugar-packed ravioli.

It didn’t end there, however. After my oldest daughter cut out three or four cookies, she would get bored and start making her own shapes. At that point, it just became modeling clay. She would roll the dough into balls, cylinders, giant lumps or just whatever seemed fun. Some she would even fill with mounds of sprinkles, like sugar-packed ravioli.

If we’d had some adult supervision, maybe they could have reigned them in. Unfortunately, we only made cookies when my wife was out shopping. That just left me and a grandma to supervise, which meant no one was telling them “no.”

Eventually, I finally wised up and started making the girls their own dough so we each had plenty for our own style of cookies. I would let them continue with Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory while I baked and decorated the proper way.

Now that they’re grown up, however, I look back on those days and realize their cookies were actually a whole lot more Christmassy than mine.

If you look at that first Christmas 2,000 years ago, you don’t see a picture-perfect yuletide scene. You see a messy miracle.

Jesus wasn’t born in a palace or even a guest room in a home. He was born in the place they kept the animals. It certainly wasn’t a location you’d see featured on a holiday HGTV special.

And who did God choose to raise his Son? Instagram influencers in stylish Christmas outfits? Not exactly. His parents were a faithful but confused teenage girl and a poor carpenter who was ready to call off the wedding until an angel intervened.

And who did God choose to raise his Son? Instagram influencers in stylish Christmas outfits? Not exactly. His parents were a faithful but confused teenage girl and a poor carpenter who was ready to call off the wedding until an angel intervened.

No one rolled out the red carpet for the newborn king other than a handful of scruffy shepherds. There was no parade and no royal welcome. In fact, Herod, the Roman puppet king, actually put out a hit on baby Jesus the second he caught wind of his birth.

Jesus was born into a world of pain, oppression, evil and injustice. Not exactly the stuff of Christmas cards. Fortunately, though, that’s exactly where we needed Him. Right in the middle of our mess. That’s where the Savior of the world does his best work. It was true in Bible times and still true today.

That’s why hands down I’d vote on my girls’ chaotic Christmas confections to represent the true meaning of Christmas over my traditional cookies. Christmas is about the God who saw our mess, saw our mistakes and chose to step in and do something about it. For God so loved the world, messy people and all.

So, whatever you happen to be going through this Christmas, whether it’s your mess or someone else’s, remember God loves you. He specializes in messy miracles, and you don’t have to fly to Bethlehem to find one..