Away in a Manger

The children's program *was* church today. It was supposed to be last Sunday in the afternoon followed by a soup/pass-a-dish event in the fellowship hall. But the weather didn't cooperate. So the pastor graciously stepped aside for the kids.

The director was in agony. Nothing had been properly rehearsed, key players were missing, last minute subs were being fitted for costumes while their heads were swimming with stage directions, substitute musicians had never even seen the music and barely had a sketchy sense of where their part fit into the whole. Scripts were hard to come by. Sound technicians were running about trying to guess who got the lapel mikes first.

The house was packed with eager relatives come to see little Johnny or Susie speak their piece. The level of hubbub was deafening! At one point, I think the director just threw up her hands, rolled her eyes, and sat down on the front row, ready to deal with whatever disaster came first.

So we began. It was a clever little play filled with puns and jokes, plays on words, a contemporary slant to the familiar story of Jesus' birth. As we settled into the action, the uproar died away, and soon the audience was laughing at the silly lines, enjoying the actor's antics, holding their breath while the different actors found the right place.

No one paid much attention to the meaning of the story. We were too caught up in the drama, in making sure the cues were met, in our willful support of the young thespians. Until the youngest Sunday School class was herded to their spot on the chancel steps. We expected to "ooohhh" and "aaahhh" at a cute if somewhat spotty rendition of Away in a Manger. Indeed, the youngsters were dressed as angels, their cherub faces scrubbed clean, their hair neatly curled and brushed, their teacher-coaches encouraging them to stand tall like soldiers and sing out.

What happened next was pure Holy Ghost inspiration. We were, en masse, transported to the gates of heaven to peek at the scene of God's birth from a taller perspective than we had seen from before. The gentle, soft voices with their adorable pronunciations seemed truly angelic. Not the warrior-full scale-all out-deafening decibel-ear splitting host of a thousand with shepherds cowering in fear angelic song we are used to thinking of, but the wistful, awe-filled, incredulous amazement of heaven's most innocent as they gazed with wonder at their Lord suddenly become a limited earthly being.

What was this? Did God know? What is He doing? How does that work? Are you sure this is the right way? Oh, my! Ah, a baby. That's amazing!

The rest of the play continued, but we were lost in the wonder, touched anew by the power of God's plan. Afterwards there were congratulations all around, lots of hand shaking and back slapping and wisemen grinning under the adulation. But the innocents just munched cookies, their halos askew and their curls falling into their cup of punch. They had no idea that their special contribution to the play had in fact been the part God used to tell us again how much He loves us.

And He does.