Over the years, I have spent Christmas in many different places.
Many were in the dense jungles of Papua New Guinea where the term ‘white Christmas’ felt more like a fairy tale. Where the tribal people we lived with understood what it meant for the Christ-Child to be born in a pile of dirty straw. Their own children had even less. Where I clearly saw that He had not come for only the white and privileged–but for the broken and dirty. For each and every one of us. Because, our circumstances and appearances aside, we are all dirty. All battling a darkness that we cannot withstand on our own.
One of my all-time favorite Christmas carols is ‘Hark The Herald Angels Sing.’ And for more than just my slight obsession with the Heavenly messengers. The song itself is gorgeous, but there are a few lines that always catch in my heart.
‘Light and life to all He brings,
Risen with Healing in his wings.’