Christmas in July
While a stubborn heat wave prevented many from venturing too far from homes, pools, or air-conditioned offices, eight year old Hannah saw it as a business opportunity; her lemonade stand prospered. The high temperatures, which persisted for several days in cities across the United States, wrecked havoc on a Boy Scout event in Virginia and forced the Navy to close tours of the USS Wisconsin when temperatures on deck reached above 120 degrees. But not everyone was wilting dispiritedly under the oppressive heat. Like Hannah, there were others walking around with uncharacteristic cheer. For while much of the East Coast sweltered beside thermometers nearing 100, a radio station in Richmond helped listeners cool off with the sounds of Christmas. "The phones just went bananas," said program director Jim Tice of the carols' effectiveness. "People really appreciated the cooling effect." Unlike the enchanted Narnia where it was "always winter but never Christmas," Virginia had Christmas in July.
For obvious reasons, thoughts of Christmas seem as out of place in July as a snowman in the midst of a heat wave. Overheated residents were no doubt enjoying the power behind the suggestion that it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas or that Jack Frost was nipping at their noses. And yet in ways far beyond the soothing thoughts of snowflakes and icicles, Christmas fits very definitely in July, though not as we might first imagine.
Of course, Christ's birth is always with us, we might say appropriately. The Incarnation is as real and striking in July as it is in December. Christmas is far more than a holiday on the calendar. All of this is certainly true. And yet, the hymnist's words do indeed seem as out of place in the summer as Frosty: "Away in the manger, no crib for a bed/ the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head/ the stars in the sky look down where He lay/ the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay." The story of the Nativity, though beautiful and familiar, though admittedly far-reaching, is somehow incongruous on this part of the calendar. Outside of their holiday stations, the wise men and the star are almost jarring--strange and distant images in the midst of summer.
But here we do well to consider that incongruity. For is it ever not a jarring story? Does the thought of a God who chose to descend fit any more neatly into the month of December? Whether we realize it among boughs of holly or not, the Christmas story fits into the present moment the same way it fits into Christmas day: uncomfortably.
The striking occasion of an omnipotent Father who relinquishes his power and becomes like the fragile clay He created in order that we might have life rests like a gigantic stumbling block on the face of history. Whoever heard of such a thing? And can such an event ever be constrained to one day, one month, one observance?
The glory of God in a dirty stable is as out of place in July as it is in December. The Christ child in the manger is forever an indication of the great lengths he will go to save us, a savior willing to descend that we might be able to ascend. The star of Bethlehem, the wise men, the shepherds, and Mary are amid the inconceivable markers of a God among us. And the birth of Christ is the timeless gesture that God has chosen to remain.
Like the thawing of a frozen Narnia and the hearts within it at the signs of Aslan, might we live as if it is always Christmas. For Christ is near.
"This is no thaw," said the dwarf, suddenly stopping. "This is spring."
Jill Carattini is senior associate writer at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.
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