Provision in the Unpredictable

It's my twenty thousandth time reading the Christmas story (give or take a few), but this year it becomes about control...and provision.

This year I see Mary and Joseph, told where to go and what to do, unable to provide the basic things we things we need (shelter, medical care, community), forced to leave their home and travel elsewhere because a king in a foreign land decided it was so. They have no power, no say, no control.

We resonate with that this year. We have been told not to leave our homes, not to meet in our churches, not to go anywhere without a mask on. Some of us have lost our jobs, our homes, our health, our friends and family. We feel like our control has been wrenched from our hands and given to the powers-that-be in Washington, and we have no other choice but to comply.

Then I see God's provision, not the provision that Mary and Joseph might have wanted (the census cancelled so they could stay home, perhaps, or even a room at the inn, which seems little enough to ask), but the provision that they were given--a stable with animals in which the Lamb of God was to be born. This was a provision that was just enough (though at the time it might've seemed far less than enough), and prepared the way for the greatest provision of all--a sacrifice that could take away the sins of the world, a provision far more than we deserve.

I wonder: what are the ways that God has provided for us this year, ways that are just enough (though perhaps they seem far less than enough at the time), provisions that years from now may point the way back to Christ, to grace, to wholeness, though we don't realize that now? 

For me, in a year with less control than usual, perhaps, He provided a long distance Zoom Bible study for my ten year old; He provided neighbors willing to welcome us into a new neighborhood; He provided a church and a homeschool community willing to take creative measures to keep meeting in person; He provided a yard where my children can play outdoors; He provided plane tickets and clean bills of health and masks so that we could fly to see my in-law's for Christmas (even with my husband's Achilles tendon partially torn). He provided a library with curbside pickup and groceries delivered to the trunk of my car and flexible children ready to roll with the punches.  

As I count the provisions, they begin to snowball, letting me see one after another after another, opening my eyes to God's goodness even as I acknowledge that I am not the one running the show...and neither is COVID-19. God prepared every detail of his son's coming, down to Caesar Augustus demanding a census so that a prophecy given 600 years before could be fulfilled with Jesus' birth in Bethlehem, a birth with the least of these for whom he came to die, a birth befitting a perfect sacrifice.

And as I count the provisions, I hear my heart quietly remembering: all this and Christ too. I may not have control of much, but I do have all this...and Christ too. And as I sit beside my husband, our youngest daughter cuddled between us and the lights of the Christmas tree mingling with firelight and the glow of computer screens as we work, I think to myself: that's worth celebrating. 

Christ's provision may not look as we imagine, but it always turns out to be just enough, enough to help us see God more fully, enough to bring joy (if we look for it), enough to be worth treasuring up in our hearts.