I’ve been making my way through the account of Jesus’ life found in Mark’s Gospel recently, and though serendipity I ended up reading the Passion narrative during the week leading up to Christmas. The Resurrection arrived on Christmas day itself.
On Christmas Eve I was struck by the comparison offered in Mark 15:42-47. The season demanded that we remember the Christ being placed gently in the manger by his parents, and there I was reading about how another Joseph placed him gently in a tomb carved from rock.
Neither could hold him of course. He grew too big for the manger, and grew too alive for the tomb.
Such is the way of Jesus. He will not be ‘placed’ anywhere for too long. He cannot be held, trapped, nailed down, cornered, pinned, ensnared, bound, boxed in or bottled up. You may as well try and glue the sea in place. We may be more comfortable if he stays in the manger, the gentle spirit of Christmas goodwill, but he will refuse your kind offer of accommodation, and wander off somewhere, life and mayhem following in his wake. Despite all the trouble he’s caused me at times, he is without a doubt my favourite person ever. And despite all the trouble I’ve caused him, he seems quite fond of me too.
So when the Messiah who won’t sit still sticks his head through your doorway and says, “I’m going out for a while. Fancy a walk?” what can you do? What can you say to that kind of invitation?
Good thought James. Most prefer Jesus in swaddling clothes than the challenging one with nail prints. It’s a constant effort to check the swaddling tendency in myself.