The Parable of a Manger

It was during a Christmas service while I was pondering the birth of Jesus that the veil was lifted and I saw that this is far more than a feel good story – it is also a parable. Where I play a part.

For many years I was the inn where there is no room for Christ. To me God, or more precisely, the idea of a God whose only door to Himself is a person, was an enemy to me. Little did I know that when running my personal inn Christ had already died for me, even though we were still enemies.

When reflecting on the inn that day in church it struck me that it represents all those who are full of themselves; their morals, ethics, good deeds, humanism and respectability. The inn is full.

Christ is born in mangers. In a foul-smelling atmosphere of dirt and excrements the child is born. The day I said yes to Jesus I had no idea that I now had become the right environment for a childbirth. I only knew that something was missing and that I no longer could resist the love pulls from God – the God and His followers I had so intensely despised.

The inn which was my abode was in reality a manger. A day many years ago when I came honest about myself I could sense the smell before Christ went to work and cleansed the temple, something which evaded me for many years while trying to be good and obedient disciple. Needless to say perhaps that I failed miserably in trying to build a new inn.

We learn the hard way that it actually is finished – “It is finished!”. In a now shorter than what anyone can imagine a manger is transformed into a temple by a simple yes.