Unto Us

 When you lay all the pettiness and back and forth aside, what remains is wondrous and glorious. It gives hope and brings light and joy, and all those things without which mankind’s darkened hearts grow exceedingly darker still.

Was Jesus born on December 25^th? I don’t know, and neither do you. The question isn’t whether He was or He wasn’t; the question is whether it matters in the larger context of what we do know with certainty and conviction.

It’s like being on the battlefield, ready to engage the enemy and a fight breaks out over whether the helmet should have a plume or not. But the enemy’s right there! It’s lined up, swords drawn, beating their chests, pumping themselves up, ready to attack, and we’re over here screaming at each other over some tertiary thing that doesn’t matter in the heat of battle.

Plume or no plume, swords will still cut if you don’t know how to parry and defend, and arrows will still pierce flesh if you don’t have your breastplate strapped on and your shield in the up-and-ready position.

Stop arguing about the plume and recognize that there are others standing on the battlefield with you, ready to take on the enemy, ready to defend the Kingdom and defend you, and maybe even take a blow or two that was meant for you.

We’re doing a far better job of dividing ourselves than the devil ever could, and it’s over things that stem from pretend intellectuals trying to hypothesize something that will remain a hypothesis no matter how many mental machinations occur.

For unto us a Child is born, and you shall argue over the date of that birth incessantly until His return. Unto us, a Son is given that we might fight what to call the day of remembrance of that wondrous gift to the point of disavowing those who fought alongside us.

It’s all great and good that an angel and a multitude of the heavenly host praised God and said, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, goodwill toward men!” but that can’t happen until you agree with me about everything! Every little thing! Was Jesus wrapped in cotton, linen, or lambswool? What were the swaddling clothes made of? You go first. That way, I’ll know if you’re telling the truth or just agreeing with me.

What was on the floor of the manger? Was it dirt, straw, or sawdust? It’s important, man! Why?

The birth of the Son of God was prophesied by Isaiah seven hundred years before it came to pass. Let that sink in for a second. That’s almost three times as long as America has been a country. Seven hundred years and every box was checked off, yet we’re still arguing about fabric content and dates?

Peace and goodwill can take a backseat; I have to be right!

Evidently, Shakespeare was wrong, and a rose by any other name wouldn’t smell as sweet! Nope, we can’t call it what it’s been called for centuries because someone found a dusty copy of Myths of the Persians or Myths of the Babylonians and because, obviously, correlation means causation; it’s all about Tammuz and Mithra and not about Jesus.

My wife’s in the kitchen making breakfast. My girls are singing Peace on Earth for the fifteenth time this morning. The house is warm and inviting, and I have a few moments to reflect on the gift of God to mankind in the form of the baby Jesus being born in a manger, whose name would be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. I have no desire to argue with anyone about anything this morning. It is a perfect moment.

Philippians 4:8, “Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy-meditate on these things.”

With love in Christ, 

Michael Boldea, Jr.