“Oh. OK.”

I don’t love Christmas. There, I said it.

I love the reason. The thought of the incarnation – God of all creation becoming a helpless human because of His love for me – leaves me breathless. It’s the season that wears me down. Every year I brace myself, then duck & cover as the flurry of school projects, programs, shopping, expectations, money, decorating, scheduling, mailing, and eating threatens to overwhelm me. I endure the month of December with my eyes fixed on the new year and an eagerness to get back to normal.

So that you don’t think my heart is really three sizes too small, I will admit there are things I treasure throughout the season – the bright eyes of children, cozy times with extended family, familiar old songs and stories, and those unexpected moments when I hear the Savior’s voice quietly speaking over the madness.

One of those moments happened during the 1st and 2nd grade Sunday school class presentation of the Christmas story. All the characters were in place. I’m sure you can picture it: Mary and Joseph in their slightly-too-big costumes with head scarves slipping over their faces, angels in white with cardboard wings and garland halos, shepherds with cut-outs of sheep taped to their crooked staffs, Herod’s soldiers with cardboard swords and shields bent from play fighting backstage in the costume room, and a baby doll wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in the manger.

The narrator recited the story as the characters acted it out. When the angel was sent to Mary, the chubby little 2nd grader with cardboard wings grabbed a step stool, rushed over to the young girl, dropped the stool onto the stage, stepped on it (raising her tiny height a whopping 12 more inches), and said something like, “Mary, God says you are going to have a baby.” Mary (who probably didn’t have a line in the script but felt the polite thing to do was answer) said, “Oh. OK.” There were a few giggles from those of us in the audience.

The angel picked up her little stool and carried it to the other side of the sanctuary as the narrator guided her to Joseph who had fallen (literally….fallen…with a loud thud) into a rather wiggly deep sleep. She plopped her little step stool down again, hopped onto it, and unceremoniously informed Joseph that he shouldn’t be afraid to marry Mary because it was God’s baby. He sat up from his deep sleep and said, “Oh. OK,” to a few more chuckles from the audience.

The story continued to the part where the baby Jesus was in danger from King Herod. The narrator said, “An angel appeared to Mary and Joseph telling them to escape to Egypt.” The little angel scurried over to the manger (then ran back because she’d forgotten the stool), hopped onto her platform and shouted, “Get out of here!” to which Mary and Joseph responded once again simply, “Oh. OK,” and did just that. This time the audience burst into laughter, enjoying the whole-hearted simplicity of the little actors.

As they took their seats, one of Herod’s soldiers whispered loudly to his mother behind me, “We get to keep the swords!” And I smiled, enjoying the refreshing retelling of the same old story I had just seen.

Christmas decorations are starting to come down, the but the cheerful little “Oh, OK” keeps echoing in my mind. Can you imagine what our lives would be like if that was our first response to God’s unreasonable requests?

Go sell all you have and give it to the poor. “Oh. OK.”

Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll give you all you need. “Oh, OK.”

Go into all the world and preach the gospel…even in places that don’t have Starbucks. “Oh. OK”

Care for widows and orphans in their distress. Right now. In your home. “Oh. OK.”

Give up your leisure time to spend it with a hurting friend. “Oh. OK.”

Give that unclean person a hug in my name. “Oh. OK.”

Let go of that longing you’re holding onto because I have something even better for you. “Oh. OK.”

Can you imagine your life? Can you imagine this world? The little kids have nailed it. Now lets see if the grown-ups can follow.