Life and Death and Christmas

Three days after Christmas I sat in a sanctuary still beautifully decorated for the Christmas season. Greenery and candles with white lights were intermingled along the stage in an elegant way. To the left hand side, surrounded by the decorations was a simple feeding trough, manger with a doll wrapped in swaddling cloths, Baby Jesus.

Just a few feet from this joyous, beautiful scene sat my grandmother's open casket.

Life and Death and Christmas.

Yes, Jesus was the baby born to die and, by doing so, give life.

Yes, because Jesus lived and died and lived again, my grandmother had been dead in her sin, but by the gift of faith God gave her, she now, physically dead, lives eternally.

Yes, because Jesus lived and died and lived again, I have hope. Hope that my sins and old nature have been put to death. Hope that I will one day be reunited with my Grandmother in an eternal life after my physical death. Hope that I can live this day the way God created me live it - alive in Christ.

I would not have chosen this week to have been the week when my grandmother died and her earthly life remembered. There will not be a Christmas that passes that I will not stop and reflect on her passing. It could be an incredibly sad thing to lose such a close loved one to death during this season the is supposed to be so festive.

But instead of just commemorating these days associated with her death with sadness, and loss - I will forever remember the Baby Jesus beside my grandmother's coffin. I celebrate the reality of Christ's incarnation and advent with a greater, deeper joy than I could not have otherwise celebrated.

Just take a few minutes to reflect on this Christmas carol below. The tune and words are basic enough to teach preschoolers, but the words will forever be so much deeper and more meaningful to me. . .

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.

The stars in the sky looked down where he lay,
The little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay.

The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,
But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes.


I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle 'til morning is nigh.

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
And take us to heaven, to live with Thee there.

Tangled Raw

The tangle of conflicting intertwined emotions weighs heavy on my sternum. Some angles are sharp and literally, physically hurt when they rub against my inside. Mostly the mass just seems to ache until I can find some sort of distraction to numb the damaged spot.

Christmas is usually filled with mostly happy thoughts and memories. Yes, there's been hard years especially the first holiday season after my dad left and the one after my brother-in-law passed, but this one is different.

I know God's timing is perfect and I can think back over the last couple of weeks and clearly see His hand preparing my heart and the circumstances for the day He would take my grandmother home to be with Him. He didn't leave any detail untaken care of.

My heart was already where it needed to be in adoration of the Savior's birth. My shopping done, my preparations completed, my groceries brought home and all put away - when I got the phone call I had been expecting.

Mom was understandably emotional as she described the last moments Grandma spent on this side of eternity and how she slipped into the other.

In the roughly 48 hours since then, the tangle of emotions has swelled. Like a tide, it has come in waves and gone in waves too.

The thought of my grandmother's reunion with my grandfather literally brought tears of joy to my eyes. The sound of exhaustion and pain in my mother's voice brought feelings of helplessness. What could I do to lesson her burden? The ending of the candlelight service on Christmas Eve led to hugs from good friends that brought me to sobs on Wally's shoulder right there in the front of the sanctuary. Perhaps I would have stayed there longer, if it weren't for one my daughters asking loudly, "What's wrong with Mom?!"

This morning, we gathered around the advent wreath and, as a family, discussed the Light of Life that has come into the world and worshipped by singing "Angels We Have Heard on High." Then the girls unwrapped gifts and toys we had bought and I had wrapped. I did delight in the joy on their faces and was thankful for the happy moments we could share.

This afternoon, Wally found me back in bed. My feelings were more than the physical exhaustion caused by the late-night-Santa-visit playing and the early-morning-Santa-visit discovering. I told him I was just sad. He encouraged me to embrace it and not try to fight it, so I allowed myself to cry

My own words from my Sunday school lesson the morning of her passing are still ringing in my ear - how Jesus' birth was God's guarantee to keep all His other promises to His people. Because He kept His word to send Jesus, I can trust that He has kept His word to my grandmother and she is in His presence even now.

I can sleep tonight knowing He will keep His word to me too. That tangle of emotions weighing on my chest includes this hope. Not only that she is truly in a better place, but that one day I will be too. In the meantime, I am not carrying this emotional mess on my own. He knows what I am feeling. I am not alone. He is with me.

I get why people drink to forget, to numb the pain, to escape. I like just having the television on for the background noise it provides. The distraction from the heaviness of these emotions is welcome. I cannot judge anyone for succumbing to the temptations of anything that will dull the distress or ease the burden for just a little while.

Pain, hope, peace, longing, helplessness, gratefulness, sadness, loneliness, joy, happiness, frustration, anger, comfort, appreciation, fear, anticipation . . .

I would describe my feelings as an emotional rollercoaster, but today, Christmas Day, that just doesn't seem accurate. Yes, there have been high highs - good things have happened today and there have been low lows - like when I debated skipping the family gathering with my husband's side of the family. But all through the highs I was still feeling lows and even at my lowest today, the highs seemed to be mingled in as well.

If emotions are defined as colors, tonight, mine would be a muddy, brown, mess.

My bags are pretty much packed and so are the rest of my crew's. We will leave first thing in the morning to be with family and prepare for the services to lay my sweet grandma to rest. We are also taking more Christmas presents with the promise of continued celebrations of the season.  

As a result, the tangled weight of emotions will continue. I didn't have to pack them for the ache  remains inside me. The sting of unexpected tears will overflow onto my hot cheeks without warning as they remain ready just beneath the thin surface of my failing attempt to hold it all together all the time.

It is all pretty raw . . .

Yet, in my head and heart I know that because of Christmas, Jesus relates to my suffering and heartache for He experienced them too. In fact, His whole life must have been one where He carried a similar burden as well. Hope with hurt, pain coupled with peace, frustration tempered with love.

This is what I will chose to focus on as I pray for sleep to come tonight.

 The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
    you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;

    in the night also my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me;

    because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;

  my flesh also dwells secure.

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,

    or let your holy one see corruption. 

You make known to me the path of life;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16:5-11

"Keeps Me Singing As I Go"

I read somewhere recently that when you lose a grandparent to death, part of your childhood dies with them.

I lost part of my childhood this afternoon. 

My last living grandparent, my mother's mother, died this afternoon. 

Her breathing labored, her heart tired and her mind weary, with her eyes closed as if already in sleep she breathed her last holding my mother's hand on one side and my aunt's on the other. 

Those hands were special hands. Here she is holding my cousin hand just last week - 

From a young age she used them to work, to play and to love. 

Whether in a shirt factory during the war in East Tennessee or on her family's farm caring for her 11 younger siblings, she knew the definition of hard work from a young age. She held various jobs over the years, but even during those times when she wasn't paid for her effort, her hands were never idle. 

Small palms and nimble, thin fingers with neatly filed nails could thread a needle, bait a hook and snap endless bushels of green beans. Only in her later years would the knots of arthritis and the effects of age leave their mark on her graceful hands. 

When articulating a point, she would point her narrow index finger, slightly bent at the knuckle with a cock of her wrist, to let her listeners know that she meant what she was saying. This was dubbed "The Mother Finger" and all of her daughters, granddaughters and even great-granddaughters have been known to use it on occasion. 

My grandmother loved games. Some of my earliest memories of visiting her house involved countless hours of playing Uno and Aggravation. Even through this fall, her hands could be found holding cards, game pieces and Scrabble tiles. 

Her pension for math was always keen. Her vocabulary was always growing. Her willingness to learn new things never wavered. She may have never earned a high school diploma and always resented having to drop out of school after the 8th grade, but no one playing her in any game of strategy or skill would have ever known her lack of formal education. 

As far as I was concerned, my grandmother was the best, most accomplished  seamstress ever. There was no thing that she could not sew or mend. When expecting my first daughter, I could not find any crib bedding that I liked. I described to her what I wanted and she produced the most beautiful set of red and white gingham with chenille accented bumpers, quilt and slip-cover ever done. Her handiwork even at 80 was amazing. 

Her quilts will be family heirlooms for generations to come. Many hand-pieced and hand-quilted, but all labors of love with meticulously picked out fabrics and designs are priceless treasures to any of us who have been blessed to be given these works of art. This hand-worked hobby was so much more than a way for my grandmother to pass the time. It was a tangible way she could pass her love from her own hands into the hands of the quilt's recipients. 

Even before I received my first quilt from her at 16 I knew it was special. I received another when Wally and I married. I keep each of the quilts she gifted to my daughters, her great-granddaughters, until the time they set up homes of their own. 

She did many more things with her hands demonstrating her love for me and those she loved. 

This time of year, she chose to show her love by busying her hands making candy. Peanut brittle, peanut fudge, chocolate fudge (with and without walnuts). Her confections were always a true sign of the Christmas season. Her go-to sweet to make for any gathering or occasion in my daughters' memories will forever be her lemon cake. 

Her great-granddaughters have been left a legacy from their Gee-gee that extends much further and much deeper than beautiful quilts and delicious cakes. 

For instance, they may not have memories of her caring for my grandfather in his last years or fishing by his side on the red pontoon at Lake Lockengren, but I do. I remember them building their dream house there at the lake together. Mingling their sweat, tears and sometimes blood to see their dream home become a reality. They worked their garden together and she canned endless jars of the best green beans ever. They would clean the smallest of blue gill and perch to allow my brother and I to eat the fruit of our couple of hours of fishing off the docks. I don't know how they removed all of those little, translucent bones! But with the meticulous detail, her nimble fingers would find the smallest of bones, then patiently fry up the little fish for us to eat. 

My childhood is filled with memories of playing at her house, eating her sweets, listening to her stories of growing up, and growing myself under her guidance. Staying up late, watching more television and being doted on were all perks of being her granddaughter. I liked teasing her, telling her because I was the first grandchild, I was the most favored, but she loved all of us the same yet uniquely. SO proud of each of us . . . We are her legacy, and in-turn, so are our kids. 

Yes, my childhood chapters are closed. Here at 42, some would say they've been over a long time now, years before her death this afternoon. However, who my grandmother was will live on through the generations for a long time after the works of her physical hands have faded. 

I will pass down the quilts and continue to make her cornbread to pair with my soups. But even if the quilts become lost and the recipes forgotten - who my grandmother was -her loyalty, pride and work ethic is ingrained in all of us she considered family - by blood, by name or by friendship. 

Who she was, she will always be in all of us. 

Tonight, she is finally reunited with my grandfather. Today, she is uttering the "sweetest name she knows" to her Jesus. He has "filled her every longing and keeps her singing as she goes."

In my pain missing her, I will sing with her and He will keep me singing as I go too. 

Shoulder the Responsibility

I don't know if that saying is used much any more - if someone "shoulders the responsibility," they are the one that would ultimately take charge, be the one that the buck stops with and is in control of the task at hand.

Like my high school daughter lugging her heavy backpack onto her shoulder as she heads out to take her last few midterms this morning, the responsibility for her grades and studies rests both literally and symbolically on her shoulders.

As I've pondered the prophecy passage in Isaiah this week, I have come to a new understanding of what is meant when he writes that "the government shall be on his shoulders."

Growing up in the church and living in the south, I have heard this verse countless times, but I don't think I ever really understood its meaning. I thought that it meant that the government would be "on His back," harassing Him. The authorities would be a burden to Him, hindering His work, and eventually putting Him to death - as they eventually did.

But as I've reflected on this passage over the last few days, I don't think this is what this prophecy foretells at all . . .

Like the Jews of the time of Jesus' birth, I assumed that this passage was talking about a political, ruling government. Even Jesus's disciples didn't get it and expected Jesus to liberate Israel from Roman rule. But... post the resurrection they came to understand that God had fulfilled the Davidic Covenant in another way. Yes, a descendent of David would rule forever, but His kingdom would not be defined by geographic borders or landmarks.

Jesus came not just as any ruler -but as the King of all kings and the Lord of all lords. His kingdom knows no end in either space or time, transcending and domineering over all the governments and dynasties of all the world.

Yes, that is the view from the airplane, but this concept hit much closer to home as I have been reading through my advent devotional. The revolution of who is in control of my life was hard-fought for and won on the cross, but my sinful nature still revolts and refuses to submit to the One I call "Lord."

I like being in charge of my life. I want to call the shots and arrogantly assume that I know what's best for me and those I love. I expect not to be inconvenienced and desire everyone to bend and bow to my authority. And, in doing so, I expect to be treated and served a certain way . . . Whether behind the wheel or in the checkout line, at home or at work, without intention, but by nature (my old, sinful, nature), my pride and my entitlement fights with the One who I was created to submit my will.

His Kingdom authority is where I find the most freedom. Under His rule and reign I find true, pure hope. He is the Prince of Peace and by His government the peace I enjoy is beyond sweet - my conflict with my holy, righteous God is over and, as a result, I can go to sleep at night feeling the peaceful assurance of His presence. He provides. He protects. He does all the things a good governing body should do.

Think about it. Think about what we expect from our governments. Whether local, state or federal there are specific services we want them to do for us. According to the Constitution, these duties that the government provides are done so to protect our rights. Many Americans and many Christians look to politics and government leaders to provide the things only God can give. And just like anything that begins and ends with man's capabilities we will eventually be let down.

This is why Jesus' kingdom, His rule and His authority is so much better. The government will be upon His shoulder. He is the best Ruler. Because of who He is, He can handle all the responsibility that comes with ruling and He does it with the same loving, perfection that He does everything.

By His patient grace, He handles all my revolts, never harshly, but always faithfully, reminding me that He is in charge, He knows best, and He can manage the responsibility of ruling my life.

There is a government that can handle all society's ills. There is a King that has the capabilities to rule with an amazing balance of justice and love, the world as a whole AND my heart.

He wasn't appointed King. He was born that way, not in a throne room, but a manger. Isaiah prophesied that "the government would be upon His shoulder."

Baby King Jesus come reign in me.

Hard Truth and Ridiculous Grace

I never do this, but I did this once. (Actually, I really liked the convenience so it is highly likely I will do it again!)

The song on the radio had this fantastic phrasing and I had to purchase this song.

It made me late to pick up my middle daughter from her friend's sleepover, but I opened up iTunes and and bought Tauren Wells' song, "Known."

The line I couldn't get over is in the chorus: "It's not one or the other. It's hard truth and ridiculous grace."

Neither the song or the phrase are "Christmasy." There's no mention of Jesus' birth or a star or wise man or anything - but this Christmas this song and this phrase is at the center of my worship.

To prepare for Advent this year I have been reading through Paul David Tripp's Advent devotional.   
Around the time I heard the song, I had read one of the devotional. The song and the devotion combined have transformed my holiday focus and, as a result, how I am approaching everything Christmas this year.

The gist behind the specific devotional had everything to do with receiving news...

Most of the time, when given the option, people would rather have the bad news before the good news. We hope the good news will out weigh the bad news, or at least help us feel better about the bad news.

Good news is only relative to the recipient as good if their situation deems it so. For example, for Bill Gates, stumbling upon a $20 bill is no big deal, but to me, my day's been made! And a new medical breakthrough might be considered newsworthy to most but it is only truly good news to those that the advancement will help and heal.

Tripp contends that the Good News of the manger can only be appreciated as "good" when we stop to consider the bad news that deems it necessary. Yes, God sent us the gift of Jesus because He loves us, but it is the bad news of our sin and its consequences that makes Jesus' birth a requirement.

This is "hard truth."

We are separated from our Creator. We are unable to fulfill the reason for our creation and live the way we were made to live . We are delusional, fully believing that we are self-sufficient with no need of God. We are under God's holy judgment, deserving of death. We are hopeless, seeing and knowing that we and the world we live in is broken and that we have no way to fix it.

This "hard truth" is indeed "bad news."

Ephesians 2:4 starts with one of my favorite phrases in the Bible, "But God..." This is where the "good news" that the angel told the scared shepherds comes in. This is where the song has everything to do with Christmas!

Through the gift God gave us in Jesus we receive "ridiculous grace."

Let's look at the grace part first. Through Jesus we are given what we don't deserve - that is the very definition of grace.

We now have unity with God and fellowship with our Creator. We are enabled to live as He created us to live, loving Him and our neighbor with all our heart and soul and mind. We have been given the truth and the truth as set us free. We are now alive in Christ, no longer facing death. We have hope because we understand what God has provided.

Now, take a minute to reflect on how "ridiculous" that this grace is . . .  That God would send His Son, who willingly humbled Himself to be born of His creation as a helpless, completely dependent baby to grow up and one day allow Himself to die in my place IS ridiculous!

This "ridiculous grace" is indeed "good news."

The angels called it "good news of great joy" in Luke 2. Reflecting on the truth and depth of this "good news" has transformed my holiday season. It has become more spiritual this year and less stressful. As I have contemplated this "hard truth and ridiculous grace" everything else -all the stresses and challenges. at work and at home- have assumed their proper subordinate positions in my priorities. My perspective has altered and the joy of the season isn't in my family or my service to others or my expectations of what I think Christmas should look like.

My joy this Christmas is in the real Reason for the season. This year, that truly isn't a lip service or a rote, #thisiswhatimsupposedtosay response. This Christmas my worship and celebration is motivated by "hard truth and ridiculous grace."

What's motivating your Christmas this year?

The Lack of Anniversary Cards

I thought I would drop into Walgreen's and quickly and grab an anniversary card for my love. I only had a few minutes, but since my children were not in tow, I assumed that it wouldn't take long.

It took longer than I expected.

First, I scoured the selection for "Anniversary Cards for Husbands" and began picking them up and reading them. Not finding anything that really seemed to fit, I moved on to "Anniversary Cards for Us." Again, I was disappointed by the cheesy prose and lousy use of language. I put back card after card knowing that this one wasn't right and that one was simply wrong.

I left the store frustrated and empty-handed. Not that I mind making my man a card, but I really thought I could have simply added my own thoughts to a store-bought sentiment. His love language is "Words of Encouragement" so I already knew that I would want to make whatever I bought personal to speak to our 20 years of marriage.

In the couple of hours that have passed, I have realized why none of the greetings cards worked. They ALL left out the third and the most important member of our marriage covenant to each other. All the cards were void of any mention of the God who made my groom, Wally, and I one.

In many of the cards, the gushing words, while extremely sincere, communicate a huge amount of responsibility onto the spouse. Our husbands are never meant to "complete us," "be our rock," or "the source of all our happiness." If I approach my man this way, I am asking him to fulfill a role in my life that only God can. If I do this, he is set up to fail and I am poised to be disappointed.

But when I find my completion, my rock and my happiness in God, I free Wally to be the man God created him to be - not some impossible, super-human facade I have concocted in my dreams. And freeing Wally from those expectations, God has given me an Ephesians 3:20 husband - he is immeasurably more than I could ever ask for or imagine.

God, through Wally, has changed my definition of who a husband is and what a husband does.

Marriage, between a man and a woman, was God's design from the very start of creation. Making both in His image, the groom and the bride have unique and important roles to fulfill. Our society and culture through the generations of my family and media-hyped fairy tales, led me to expect Wally to be and do things in particular ways. These expectations of mine made our first couple of years of marriage really rough on both of us.

Yet, God's grace is SO good.

As HE has grown us to be more like Him, HE has grown us closer together. When we are each individually focused on Him, HE reinforces the bond between the three of us.

Our marriage is what it is not because we gutted it out or did anything on our own. Our marriage is good because of the way God has worked in us. We have seen 20 years together because of what God has done and what He continues to do. It is His provision and His protection.

Marriage itself is intended to be symbolic of Jesus and His relationship with His Bride, The Church. By asking God to intervene and protect our marriage, we are inviting God to be Lord over it. By protecting and growing our marriage, God is protecting and proclaiming Jesus' reputation and relationship with The Church. When Wally and I are both pursuing God's will, God will make sure He is glorified in our marriage relationship.

None of the cards I read acknowledged these truths.

I wanted to buy a card that thanks my husband for the way he pursues God, for the way he points me to God and for the way he personifies God the Father to our daughters.

This is what we celebrate when we go out to eat for our anniversary. We remember what God has done for us. We thank Him for how He has provided and protected. We dream about the plans He has for us. We acknowledge His crucial role in our marriage.

Maybe there were no cards that "fit" for our anniversary because too many couples are lacking this sustaining third Person in their marriages?

There is no secret to our marriage. It is our shared prayer that our relationship will only loudly proclaim God's goodness and grace. In the ups and through the downs, may He alone be shown in the love story He is writing with our lives.

I will write Wally. I will give him my thoughts on our anniversary. I will be sappy and share an inside joke or two with my best friend. I will make sure he feels appreciated and valued. But my words to him will be laced with how God has, is, and will continue to sustain us.

Prepping for Christmas

I am officially ahead of "the game."

I am not entirely sure of the rules or even who the other players may be. I don't know if there are officials or umpires or even fans cheering on the sidelines.

But, I am sure every gal out there can relate to the craziness that is December with its endless to-do, to-buy and to-make lists. I have seen holiday planner books to help keep lists of all the lists we tend to make during the Christmas season.

This year, however, I feel like things are under control. No, I don't have all the gifts bought or the first package wrapped. I don't even know what I am buying most of the peeps on any of my lists - but I've got peace.

I have seen several things get bumped off my list until after the 25th. I have also had the extreme satisfaction of crossing several other things off my lists. Things I have never had done this early in the month are no longer dangling over my head. I've got peace.

Yes, the Big Day is getting closer with each move of the star on the girls' advent calendar that hangs on the fridge. But, it's okay. I've got peace.

With this peace comes the freedom to enJOY the lights on my tree with the coffee in my cup.

This morning, I felt a little uneasy and even a little threatened by this sense of "winning" this game the Christmas season has become. I even joked with my co-workers that I felt a little nervous too and confessed that I questioned God with what He might know is in store for my next couple of weeks.

Then as the day progressed, I realized that by His grace alone, I have been intentional to seek Him and abide in Him as this season of advent has begun to unfold.

There is nothing magical about the Paul David Tripp devotional I am reading. True, I have been worshipping to Chris Tomlin's Christmas CD in the car. Prepping to teach the ladies at church from another great advent devotional has made an impact too.

For the first time in MANY Christmases, I am intent to make sure that this season is a spiritual one for me. His Word tells us that when we seek Him we will find Him. (Jeremiah 29:12-13, Matthew 7:7) This is my game plan, my strategy and He is keeping His Word.

I have been convicted on how I prep for every other aspect of the Christmas season. I list. I stress. I run. I spend. I mean to bake. Then I wonder what happened and where the joy of the holiday went. I welcome January and the chance to start over feeling as though I missed something vital.

Don't get me wrong. From the time I was young I could tell you Jesus was the reason for the season, but my actions and attitudes rarely reflected that.

This year as I seek Him first, He is adding the rest -both in the sense of the things that "must be done" getting the attention that they need and in the sense of the "rest" that usually seems so elusive during the days after Thanksgiving.  (Matthew 6:33)

My question to you is the same question I asked my Sunday school class this week. "What are you doing to prep for Christmas?" These teens and I discussed and defined "advent" and "incarnation." Maybe I will blog about that too . . . But in the meantime, please share with me how you are preparing your heart to celebrate the birth of our Jesus?

A "Way" In A Manger

The advertisement on the back of our insurance company's monthly magazine is fantastic. I had never heard of the company, but they definitely got my attention.

Across the top of their ad was this statement, printed this way:

"aWAY in a manger

was born on the first Christmas night."

Under that was a picture of a manger on the right and in the sun set picture of the left can be found the three crosses of Calvary. 

Then along the bottom of the picture reads:

"There has been only one Christmas, the rest are anniversaries." 

I haven't been able to get this thought, this image out of my head since. My pastor mentioned the ad from the pulpit on Sunday morning. It made an impression on him too. The Christmas hymn, "Away In A Manger" has taken on a new meaning I won't soon forget. 

But as I've pondered it, I have also reflected how Jesus said He was THE way, the truth and the life. (John 14:6 - emphasis mine)

The ladies and I that meet for Bible Study on the last Friday of the month examined the names of Christ in relation to advent just this past Friday. (Check out this great resource - Unwrapping the Names of Jesus) We looked at that verse from John, but focused on how He called Himself "The Truth." Just as He isn't "a" truth, He is THE truth. 

There isn't another way to God. There isn't another truth to find. There isn't another true life out there to live or obtain. 

All other ways to God will fail. All other thoughts on Truth are Satan's attempts to distort Jesus. All other lives that are lived without Him are mere shadows and facades of what they were intended to be. 

Jesus was, is and will always be THE WAY that was born in a manger.