My Favorite Advent Story of All Time

And it's not even close

With apologies to Fargo…

THIS IS A TRUE STORY

The events described in this piece took place in Texas in 2014.

At request of the stubborn, the names have been changed.

Out of respect for the sincere, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.

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Every year at the beginning of Advent, I embark on a quixotic quest to keep my church from celebrating Christmas too early.

When I preached at the Preston Road Church of Christ, one of my strategies for doing this was to refrain from placing Baby Jesus in the lovely nativity we displayed on the church lawn.¹

The first year I did this, I explained to the church at our annual “Lighting of the Nativity” event that we wouldn’t be putting Baby Jesus in the manger until Christmas Eve.

The empty manger would serve as a reminder that Advent is the season of waiting for Jesus to come.

At least that was my plan.

The next day I drove by our nativity and saw a baby doll in the manger.

I wondered if one of our people-pleasing staff members lost their nerve and gave into the pressure to put Baby Jesus in the manger.

When I made the rounds I was pleased (and a bit surprised) to discover our staff was holding the line.

Perhaps it was a church member who wasn't part of the Advent service and didn't hear about our plan?

Or maybe it was a concerned neighbor trying to help us out?

Or maybe it was someone trying to have some fun with me?

Regardless, I pulled the doll from the manger and brought it into the office.

The next day there was another doll in the manger and I pulled that one too and wondered if we had a big enough closet to contain all the dolls we were going to receive before Christmas Eve.

The fun and games came to screeching halt the next day when a third doll appeared with a note attached:

To the thief stealing baby Jesus,

I am watching you.

If I catch you I will call the police.

This is a very cruel act.

God would not want this.

Think before you do.

I wasn’t crazy about the idea of being surveilled by someone with WAY too much time (and spare dolls) on their hands.

This didn't stop me from taking the doll as I backed away from the manger, hoping I wasn’t in someone’s (literal!) crosshairs.

My teammates and I decided the best course of action was to leave a note of our own in the manger.

I don’t remember exactly what we wrote, but it said in a very polite way: We got this. Please don’t leave any more dolls in our manger.

The next day our note was gone.

In its place was a fourth doll.

Perhaps for emphasis this doll was huge, almost twice as big as the previous dolls.

This led to an impromptu staff meeting around the manger during which we seriously considered if we were doing this whole advent thing wrong and should just leave the 8lb 6oz Baby Jesus doll in the manger.

But after some deliberation, we resolved to stick with our convictions.

It was not yet time to put Baby Jesus in the manger.

So we took it out and brought it into the office.

Please note, I'm using the royal “we,” because by this point it was clear I was the only one who really cared about getting Advent right.²

Instead of a fifth doll, we got a call from a neighbor who offered to come down and affix a chain to Baby Jesus so people would stop stealing him.

We said no thank you and explained why our manger was empty and after that we didn't receive any more donations from our neighbors.

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Our neighbors must have found it terribly disconcerting to drive by a traditional nativity scene with all the usual characters leaning over and looking into an empty manger.

I understand why a tender-hearted, well-meaning, doll collector would take corrective action to make things look and feel right.

Because this is precisely the way Advent is supposed to feel.

Like there is something missing.

Like there is something about our world that's not quite right.

Advent reminds us that we’re still waiting for Jesus to come and make us whole and heal our broken world.

Even when celebrating Christmas and the wonder of God becoming one of us, living with us, dying for us, and being raised ahead of us, we still can't escape the ache, the longing, the emptiness.

Maybe the empty manger bothers us because it reminds us that no matter how much we sing or pray or give or eat, there is still something missing, and there always will be until Jesus comes again and makes all things new.

1. This nativity was a gift from a generous donor predating my time at Preston Road. It’s a replica of a nativity displayed at the Vatican, expensive enough to be insured, and a blessing to the community. It’s also a huge pain in the neck, not to the mention the lower back. It requires a large amount of storage space and periodic maintenance. Mary, bless her heart, often retains water after a big rain. Some gifts just keep on taking.

2. The first Advent after I left Preston Road, guess where Baby Jesus was the day after Thanksgiving? Of course he was.