Fire in the Inn!

If only the Christmas innkeeper could have heard Sunday’s sermon. But he hadn’t, and Mary and Joseph came too late. The rocks had already been placed in the jar, the sand sifted in around them, the water poured into the air pockets. One by one, he had dropped his guests into empty beds, stuffed his food and bedding into and around them, then poured his effort and energy into the remaining space.

The innkeeper’s jar was full. There was no room in the inn. Not for even one more rock. Not for even the Rock.

But what could he have done, after all? Even if he had known who Jesus was, the innkeeper had a predicament. Was he expected to kick someone out of their promised room? Give up his own bed?

Maybe… a fire drill? What if he had run into the inn and shouted, “Quick, everybody out! Move it, move it! Out! Out!” Then, with flustered guests still muttering and making for the door, he could have ushered Mary and Joseph in first, made sure his own family had lodging, and afterward fitted the remaining guests in - or as many as possible. He might have been the cause of some head-shaking and grumbling, or, worse, the target of well-aimed punch or a vengeful lawsuit… but what price can you put on hospitality to the Messiah?

But of course the innkeeper didn’t do that. In his defense, he had never heard the Christmas story. He could hardly know he was refusing the Messiah. But what about us? We’ve heard the story, and we heard Sunday’s sermon. We understand that Jesus is the Rock which must go into the Christmas season first, and everything else must be filled in around Him.

But we have a predicament. We’ve already packed the season with family, traditions, obligations, expectations, shopping, partying, traveling… We’re locked into our pattern of celebration, and it seems impossible to add much of anything – even Jesus - without causing an overflow of protest, a spill of resentment.

But what if we just “emptied the inn” this week? What if we dumped our to-do lists and family traditions and gift-buying expectations and all the contents of the Christmas jar out on the table, and started over? What if we then picked up the Rock upon which our salvation is built, and placed Him in first? Then we could replace the rest of the contents, prayerfully fitting them around our welcome to Jesus, as the Holy Spirit directs us.

It might be surprising how much would still go into the jar… but surely everything won’t fit. And won’t even seem to belong in there any more.

Maybe some things can’t be changed this year; it may be too late for that. But next September, when the world of commerce is starting to make little noises about Christmas, we could pull our jar off the shelf. We could empty its contents and reach for the Rock. We could start the new season a new way.

Others might have a little trouble understanding the change in our celebration of Christmas. But what price can you put on hospitality to the Messiah?