The story of Christmas is a story of hope for the world, found in the unlikeliest of places. This time of year has me (Joben) pondering the earliest Christmas day and the community that surrounded baby Jesus. Without a room, in a manger, surrounded by cows, sheep, and at least one donkey the prince of peace was born in what was possibly the least peaceful of places. Even the magi and the shepherds, the visiting humans, are unlikely guests. And, the image of a peaceful nativity is, in all likelihood, a misnomer.


Picturing the potential chaos of that first Christmas brings a smile to my face. It is much like life at Jacob’s Well, where we learn to embrace the chaos in the spaces that we share together (usually including a good laugh). Each of us has a story that connects us to the larger story of being friends with God, as we strive to be better friends with each other. The welcome to join in the story is alive and well as we celebrate the hope that continues to live amongst us.
 


For many, this has been a difficult year to hope. The chaos of the world has been brought home. Guidelines, lockdowns, and emergency responses have impacted us in so many ways. Many have felt the loss of dear ones and the loss of community just when they may have needed it the most. It has been especially hard on our friends in the DTES. Almost everyone in our neighborhood has lost someone they know, or spaces held dear. In many ways these losses will have deep impacts that will last long after the pandemic has passed. It is an unfair load to carry for those that already bear so much.

Despite all of the challenges, unlikely though it might seem, hope lives on. It finds root in rejoicing at Devon’s long awaited heart transplant, in Val’s blessing of all she meets, in Jonn’s prayers, in Chris opening his guest room to a new friend, in meals shared, coffee brewed, and a weekly round of debates on all manner of subjects. In the middle of a pandemic, it comes to life in friendships made deeper, quiet moments of puzzling with Cornelius, pizza with Jay, in wishes made, dreams dreamt and faithful community members that support us in innumerable ways. It lives on in God’s provision for us, through the kindness of friends that open their doors to us, in grace shown us despite the error of our ways and in community—chaotic, smaller than usual—but beautiful community.

I cannot but marvel that, behind an inn with no vacancy, in all probability brimful of potential candidates, God chose a community of unlikely pilgrims to witness the hope that is the savior’s birth. This Christmas season may God grant you community, to love and be loved. And just like around that manger in Bethlehem so long ago, may you find hope in the unlikeliest of places.