We know the story, don’t we? An innocent peasant girl, a heroic fiance, and angel visitations. Peculiar starlight.

We hold our children close, paging through brightly colored storybooks, reminding them of the miracle of the baby in the manger. “Silent night, holy night”, we sing, clutching candles in the dark.

Its a beautiful story. A captivating one, filled with wonder and danger and miracles and love. But this story, this good news for all people, did more than warm our hearts and give us something worth believing.

That one night in Bethlehem plunged a sword into the scroll of human history, forever dividing it into Before and After. Time itself shifted when BC “Before Christ”became AD “Anno Domini”, (Latin for The Year of the Lord); one small baby birthed out of what was, into what will be.

Some of us leapt joyfully from BC to AD in our own lives, from darkness to dazzling light. Others inched toward a gradual lightening, like a sunrise on the far horizon. But now we stand in a freedom brimming with possibility. With hope. And yet, at times we lose the glorious vision, our wonder dimmed by the burdens of life. So we go through the motions of Christmas, living a form of the story but denying its power.

Modern historians have tried to diminish the story. Attempted to stifle that stupendous history-dividing truth. Scrubbed it clean of its implications. Replaced it with the watered-down BCE (Before the Common Era) and CE (Common Era). In the process, replacing “Christ” with “Common”. And we follow along, stifling a yawn because we haven’t beheld the story, not really.

We are ambassadors, the Bible says, our lives representing not traditions and dogma, but a living, breathing light who entered this world one dark night to bring us home where we belong. How can we ignore so great a salvation? Heaven roars and sings and dances and we have forgotten to listen.

Come live again the Christmas story. Smell the shepherds’ campfire in the lonely fields. See the star leading to an exhausted and bewildered couple with their new babe, swaddled against the cold. Behold the light of the world, Emmanuel. Because this story is real, and it was written for you.