The Grandmothers of Christmas

This morning I went to Trinity Presbyterian for church. I don't think I've been there since July. When I go, I usually walk. I love that tangible connection between home and worship.

Today, I had company--Alena, my housemate, and Polly and Charles, friends. I savor the quiet community of walking to and from church, the simplicity and fellowship. Even if all the chat is chatter, creating that space on either side slows life down a bit and makes room for a smidge more reflection and reverence. Sometimes I walk alone. Also good.

The talk was on Jesus' grandmothers (the ones listed in Matthew: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba). The broad theme was what God has to say about family. The speaker described the stories surrounding these women and their nations--the shame and scandal. And Jesus chose these stories to shape his lineage.

I love being reminded of how God transforms shame, how he redeems our stories. I love knowing that, in a world of broken homes and histories, God simply says, through Jesus, "I know." I love the example of transparency and courage: God bought a home with skeletons in the closet. And, as only he can do, he resurrected them. I love that when the sinless Savior died, his blood carried away geneaologies of sin.

One of my favorite names for God is Immanuel.

Stories like those of Jesus' grandmothers are why.