Think about it - there is only one person in all of history who could have arranged the exact circumstances of their own birth. Jesus.
So, what did He choose for Himself? A castle? Royal comfort, prestige and wealth? Clearly not.
He choses a smelly, draughty and, shall we call it, an intensely unhygienic stable in which to be born. The most humble of circumstances, and, as things turned out, the most difficult and dangerous of circumstances that saw him becoming a refugee.
And yet, here we are, about to celebrate a nice, safe, comfortable, dare one say, ritualistic Christmas, with all its trappings, two thousand years on.
Here’s the question, then, that inevitably hits you between the eyes? What in the blazes was God thinking, schlepping His Son through this terrible place? And what is He trying to say to us, here and now, in our comfortable little Christmas ritual?