I had asked the big man in the red suit for a dragster for Christmas. It was 1975 and I was trying to hold on to my Santa convictions despite the discouragement of my older brother. As was the tradition on Christmas Eve, I was sleeping on an air mattress in my grandparents’ lounge room with my cousins and brother. We were packed in, close to the Christmas tree, which would be surrounded by presents in the morning. Suddenly my Santa convictions were crushed, a little like my legs, as my mum accidentally ran over them with my new metallic dragster. Suddenly I was awake, staring at my mum. In shock all she could say was “just go back to sleep”. I couldn’t! Christmas as I knew it had been disturbed.  

I love the traditions and familiarity of this season. New ones have been embedded since we moved to Melbourne and I see how much my kids treasure them. But amid this season of familiarity, I also pray this Christmas Eve that the surprising, disturbing reality of the incarnation of Jesus will rattle my cage afresh.

When God breaks into human history at Bethlehem he does so in the most radical, unexpected, surprising, and disturbing ways. He chooses insignificant people and an insignificant place to be at the centre of the birth event. The script isn’t as we would write it. This is the humblest arrival. And soon the infant King will be fleeing with his parents for their lives as displaced people, like millions around the world this Christmas. The story is shaped well outside the comfort zone!

We have a choice each Christmas. We can keep “do not disturb” signs on our hearts and homes, even as we sing familiar carols, or we can dare pray something like this:

“Jesus disturb me afresh this Christmas with the reality of the incarnation. Shake me in my comfort to see anew what it means to genuinely reflect your love, priorities, ethics and justice in this broken world, yearning for hope and change.”