Growing up, one of the things I always anticipated about Christmas was being part of a Nativity Christmas pageant. Sometimes it was at school, sometimes at church, sometimes both. And I always enjoyed finding out which character I would be each year. I’ve had the distinct pleasure of being an angel, a star, a shepherd, one of the Magi, a donkey, a sheep, and I even got to be Mary - twice. In fact, the only character I don’t recall being is Joseph. 

Even as I got older and outgrew the Christmas pageant scene, the Nativity has remained central to my Christmas experience each year. We, of course, have several Nativity sets as part of our Christmas decor. But I’ve also learned a ton through different Advent Bible studies and sermon series that have encouraged me to focus on one particular character in the story each week - trying to imagine what it would have been like to experience the birth of Christ the way they did. Hoping to glean something new from their perspective. And to be honest, that approach to preparing my heart for Christmas has been meaningful and often deeply moving for me. There is something powerful about revisiting the familiar Christmas story each year with fresh eyes, exploring every nook and cranny of its significance. 

But recently, I’ve found myself drawn to a new character - or characters - who I’ve never really considered before. A perspective we don’t usually pay much attention to. A lens that magnifies God’s faithfulness. 

We tend to focus on the people whose experiences are shared in Scripture, who knew something of the significance of that obscure night. And rightly so. I mean, it makes perfect sense that we would focus on what we know based on what we find in Scripture. Mary and Joseph, Elizabeth and Zechariah, the shepherds and the people they shared the good news with, the Magi and King Herod. Even later on in Luke 2, we learn about Anna and Simeon, who recognized Jesus as the Messiah even as a tiny newborn at the temple. 

But in the grand scheme of things, those people probably only made up a couple handfuls of those who knew Jesus was even being born, let alone what that actually meant for humanity. So what I’ve come to realize is that, really, most of the world had no idea.

I’ve been drawn to those people, the people who didn’t know. Who didn’t have a front row seat or a shoutout in Scripture. Who were unaware of just how significant that night was. Who had no idea that a savior - THE Savior they had been waiting for - was born and that the world was being turned upside down for the better, just a couple towns away. We don’t know their names or their specific circumstances. But we do know that God’s people had been waiting for the Messiah for over 400 years and during that time, God was mostly silent. And when God finally broke that silence in the form of Jesus, the vast majority of God’s people didn’t hear a thing. And maybe that has seemed obvious to you, but for me, it’s kind of been blowing my mind.

I don’t know about you, but for the majority of my life, I’ve held on to a perspective 2,000 years removed - aided by the gift of hindsight - that makes it seem like this: God’s people were waiting and it was long and difficult and heartbreaking, and then all of the sudden, Jesus was born and all was well and you could hear this collective sigh of relief. I mean, that’s what we sing each year: Joy to the world, the Lord is come; Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright; a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices; the list goes on.

And yes, the joy we have and those words we sing and the hope we celebrate are real and true and good and we need to recognize Christmas for the absolute miracle that it is. It IS a miracle and it changed everything. But it’s also important to remember that for most of God’s people that day, nothing really seemed to change. The waiting didn’t end overnight. 400 years of Advent continued. The pain and suffering and disappointment and confusion lingered. The words to those classic songs we sing probably wouldn’t have rung true back then. 

And yet, even though most of God’s people couldn’t recognize it, point to it, name it - God was at work on their behalf. A Savior was born and God was with us and on the move - they just didn’t know it yet. Oddly enough, I find significant hope in their oblivion. 

It might be easy to write them off or think that they weren’t worthy of knowing the good news of Christmas as it was happening, unlike the usual Nativity characters we know so well. But the Christmas story’s unnamed majority remind us that even when we can’t see it or feel it or understand, we can trust that God is at work in significant ways. We can cling to God With Us even when it seems like God is not. 

Even when the waiting of Advent resonated so deeply and here we are, nearly a week after Christmas, and not much seems to have changed. 

Even when the grief is still thick. 

Even when your heart is still broken. 

Even when the pain is still deep. 

Even when the resolution is still out of sight.

Even when the loneliness is still suffocating. 

Even when the resume is still overlooked.

Even when the cure still hasn’t been found.

Even when the waiting continues. 

We are reminded through the birth of Christ that we can trust a plan is in motion. That something significant could very well be happening behind the scenes, right under our noses, even if we’re unaware of it right now. We might not know, but we can trust. Because that is often how God works. Preparing, creating, orchestrating good in obscure ways. And what a gift that the story of God’s faithfulness doesn’t depend on my awareness of it.

We don’t always see it in the moment. But when we reflect and remember, we create space to notice. We can trace the thread of God’s faithfulness all throughout our lives and realize that we never were and never are forgotten or alone. That is the promise of Christmas. God at work through God With Us.

That is what we celebrate. Not that there was a magical night 2,000 years ago when all the world’s problems were solved, but that God chose to enter into the hardship and grief and suffering to be with us in the middle of it all. Even though most of God’s people back then barely even noticed. And God is still with us, working for good in and through us in ways we can’t always see or even comprehend. God does significant work in the subtle and obscure. 

Today, remember, you are not forgotten. God is at work even if we can’t see it or feel it just yet. May we cling to the hope found in remembering the majority who didn’t know the significance of Christmas Day, trusting in the promise of the faithful work behind the scenes.