Written by Kathy Gallagaher, guest blogger

Let’s pause, right here in the hush before Christmas, and inhale deeply.

What does tomorrow hold?  It’s bound to be different—Christmas 2020.  Where is uncertainty stressing you, anxiety gripping you, or change beckoning you toward self-pity?  

Four B.C. was itself a quiet, tense, irritating moment in history.  The government–someone else’s government, a point we would have chafed against and at best tolerated reluctantly–required them all, convenient or not, great with child or not, financially able or not, to make their way back to their hometown in someone else’s timeframe, to be counted.  

“One. Two.”  

There.  It was a lot.  Just to be numbered.

And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son, and wrapping him in swaddling cloths, she laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.¹

This was not the way Mary expected him to come into the world.

Few expected the Deliverer at all, in fact.  After 400 years of prophetic silence, maybe the Messiah himself was just an outdated myth.  Those who did believe in the promise looked for military or political salvation, someone to throw off the yoke of foreign rule and give Israel their rightful place in the world as a kingdom again.

But no one–NO ONE–expected him to show up as a wet little baby, swaddled and sleeping in the straw and smelling just a little earthy.  

That was unexpected.

In fact, as he grew, every single thing about this Jesus was unexpected.  That he would begin with a few stinky fishermen.  That this home boy would walk into a synagogue and speak with astonishing authority.  That he dined with sinners and healed diseases and spoke in riddles.

He was neither Sunday School Nice Jesus nor the conquering commander the disciples were hoping for.  This strangely magnetic man welcomed the children, called the scribes harsh names, multiplied buns, and bossed the wind around in a shocking manner.  He said the last would be first, the least would be the greatest, and adults had to become like little kids.  He read minds, forgave sins, broke bondage, and although scripture doesn’t actually confirm this, I think he may have occasionally rolled his eyes.

An absolutely unexpected Jesus stepped into a broken world on that first Christmas, and started plowing up soil, separating sheep from goats, and loving all the wrong people.

“Why aren’t you like the other religious leaders?” the people asked².  This renegade was not staying on script, and it was confusing, exhilarating, and terrifying, all at once.

“No one pours new wine into old wineskins,” Jesus said. “If he does, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. Instead, new wine is poured into new wineskins.”³

Old ways cannot hold new realities.

So he continued right on breaking all the rules, unexpectedly, refreshingly, dismantling what once was, and building a new and entirely unexpected kingdom.

And so I wonder.  How will this Unexpected Jesus show up in my own, weird 2020 Christmas?  

What will he do with our meager party of four, or the new boyfriend, or the ache of our first Christmas without our two dads?  How will he unite the politically opposed around your own table?  What does Christmas hold for the underemployed, or the senior in Memory Care, or your isolated and sullen teen?  

I don’t know about you, but 2020 wreaked havoc on my “wineskins”!  My gut wants to tighten, my head wants to worry and fix.  I feel the need to salvage Christmas, and I instinctively reach for the needle and thread, to mend the old.

But what if?  

What if in this one, holy, quiet moment, here on the threshold of Christmas, we set down the needle, exhale slowly, and lift our hands high and empty to our Savior?  

What if we invite Unexpected Jesus to show up and do his beautiful, unexpected thing?

What if new wine is on its way?

Come, Thou Unexpected Jesus*,
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s Strength and Consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear Desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.


¹Luke 2:6

²Mark 2:18

³Mark 2:22

∗With apologies to Charles Wesley, who wrote Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus in the midst of very uncertain times in 1744.

I met Kathy Gallagher when she was a student in the 9th grade Bible class I taught when she was a student at Seattle Christian School. We reconnected a few years ago over Facebook and  I have been blessed repeatedly by her insights into Scripture and life. I also love her keen eye for a good photo.

The cover photo is from freebibleimages.com, from the story, “The Birth of Jesus.” Used by permission. The other photos are the property of Kathy Gallagher.