The Bells Still Ring – Emmanuel in the Chaos: Finding Light in Life's Cracks

When Christmas Collides with Reality: Finding Light in the Cracks

The warm glow of Christmas candles barely flickers out before reality comes crashing back in. We've just finished singing carols about peace on earth, unwrapped presents, and savored those last bites of holiday cookies. The third verse of "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" still echoes in our hearts like a warm, fuzzy blanket of love and reassurance.

But the Gospel of Matthew refuses to let us linger in the manger scene.

As John Lennon once wrote, "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." One moment we're celebrating the angels' song of goodwill toward all; the next, we're thrust into a raw and difficult reality—fleeing into the night with the holy family, running for their lives.

The Uncomfortable Truth of the Christmas Story

We often sanitize the Christmas narrative, focusing on the beauty while glossing over the brutality. Yet even before King Herod's murderous rage, the circumstances surrounding Jesus's birth were anything but comfortable.

Mary risked divorce and stoning for her unexplained pregnancy. Joseph had to overcome scandal and trust an angel's message in a dream. The couple traveled to Bethlehem while Mary was heavily pregnant, only to give birth in conditions reserved for animals—the ancient equivalent of delivering a baby in a gas station restroom.

The good news of the Savior's birth wasn't announced to those in palaces or positions of power. Instead, angels proclaimed it to shepherds—society's lowliest members, surrounded by animals and their smells.

Then came the Magi, the flight to Egypt, and Herod's horrific massacre.

Two Kings, Two Kingdoms

The contrast between King Herod and the infant King Jesus couldn't be more striking.

When Herod realized the Magi had "tricked" him—a word conveying mockery and ridicule—he ordered the death of all children in Bethlehem up to two years old. The Greek word used for "kill" in this passage also carries the meaning "to take for oneself." Herod wanted Jesus's crown and power for himself, and he would slaughter his own people to secure it.

Meanwhile, the true King lay helpless in his mother's arms, fleeing into Egypt—ironically, the very land that had once enslaved and oppressed his ancestors. The place of safety was the place of historical trauma. The brain might have said "safety," but the heart must have screamed in terror.

This is the paradox of Christmas: Herod kills his own people to gain power, but Jesus will ultimately die for his people. One king demands sacrifice from others; the other King becomes the sacrifice himself.

The Prophecies That Frame the Story

Matthew's account weaves together three prophecies that illuminate the deeper meaning of these events.

From Hosea: "Out of Egypt I have called my son"—showing Jesus as the fulfillment of Israel's story, reliving their exodus but transforming its meaning.

From Jeremiah: "A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted"—acknowledging the profound grief that evil inflicts on the innocent.

And finally, the prophecy that Jesus would be called a Nazarene, linking him to Isaiah's "branch from the stump of Jesse" and Jeremiah's "righteous branch"—the Messiah emerging from lowly, unexpected origins.

What Does This Mean for Us?

Most of us will never flee a murderous tyrant in the middle of the night. But we do have our own Herods—the things that pursue us, threaten us, and try to destroy the hope within us.

Perhaps you're fleeing a violent relationship or running from an addiction that's slowly consuming your life. Maybe job burnout is chasing you down, or illness threatens to overwhelm you or someone you love. Clinical depression might feel like living in the belly of a great fish, swallowed by darkness. Grief may have already taken someone precious from you.

The list of what pursues us goes on and on.

So what difference can a tiny, helpless infant make when our lives are spiraling out of control?

The Bells That Still Ring

There's a song called "Fairytale of New York" that captures something profound about Christmas in the midst of chaos. It tells the story of a couple experiencing hard times during the holidays—beginning in a drunk tank on Christmas Eve, recounting broken dreams, fighting, and calling each other names that reference their addictions.

Yet throughout their brokenness, a chorus breaks through: "The boys of the NYPD choir still singing 'Galway Bay,' and the bells are ringing out for Christmas Day."

Why do bells ring? They call the faithful to worship. They announce events, draw attention to holy moments, and remind us to listen for God's voice.

Maybe those bells cut through the din of jail, addiction, and conflict as if to say: "Hi, it's me, Jesus. I wanted to remind you that I love you. I am here with you. You're not alone. I'm ready when you want to talk, and I will always be with you."

The Light Gets In Through the Cracks

Leonard Cohen wrote in his song "Anthem": "Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."

This is the gift of Christmas that extends far beyond December 25th. Christmas isn't just about a peaceful stable scene; it's about God entering our chaos, our pain, our fear, and our imperfection.

Fully divine yet fully human, the God of all the cosmos comes to us as a helpless infant, born among the lowly, immediately threatened by the established order, and forced to flee into the night.

But the darkness did not overcome the light.

As John's Gospel proclaims: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, full of grace and truth."

Emmanuel: God With Us

Whatever is pursuing you today, whatever threatens to overwhelm you, whatever crack exists in your carefully constructed life—that's exactly where the Christ child wants to enter.

Not when you've got it all together. Not when your life looks Instagram-perfect. Not when you've finally achieved that "perfect offering."

Right now. In the mess. In the flight. In the fear.

Because Emmanuel means "God with us"—not God waiting for us to clean up, but God entering the chaos and saying, "I'm here. You're not alone. I came for this. I came for you."

The bells still ring to cut through chaos, pain, and grief. The light still shines in the darkness. And a tiny babe still enters through the cracks in our hearts, bringing hope to the hopeless and life to those pursued by death.

That's the Christmas story that doesn't end on December 25th. That's the gift that keeps giving, every single day of the year.