“Where” there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox. – Proverbs 14:4
But have you ever thought about what the above proverb is suggesting? That mangers aren't the tidiest or most sanitary of places? That they're likely to be contaminated by all manner of things if the stable they occupy is of any use? Because where you find service animals, you’re also going to find, shall we say, animals' leavings. And where animals reside, messes are sure to follow. Proverbs 14:4 reminds us that stables are places where hard, backbreaking work takes place in the day-to-day production of life-sustaining commodities. A clean manger would suggest no animals were nearby needing sustenance for heavy lifting. Essentially, it would mean no work was getting done.
Now let’s talk about the, ahem, aromas that assault your nose where mangers are found. Stables don't smell like candy canes or chocolate chip cookies or even fir trees. To be blunt, they stink of dung and maybe mildewing hay if the barn roof is leaking. They evoke nothing like the scenes depicted on Christmas cards and Renaissance paintings.
So, yes. Mangers, along with
storing food for weary animals, can also house germs and other
undesirable things.
Why, then, did the God of the
universe choose to make His son’s first crib a slovenly feeding trough instead
of a davenport in a stately manor? Or any decent bed with a clean scent and
comfy mattress and crisp-edged sheets?
I suspect it’s because life is
messy and muddy. Most of the time, life is more mucked up than cleaned up.
Take babies, for example. They’re
cute and cuddly in Hallmark movies, but in real life, they spit up and throw up
and wake up screaming. And let’s not even talk about what their nether regions
produce.
But parents have to wade through
the nasty stuff that accompanies their children’s growing up years in order to
get to the good stuff from having raised functioning, contributing adults.
Likewise, old people produce
messiness. Body parts they once commanded now call all the shots.
It used to be considered a privilege
to tend to infants and elderly people. Now, as often as not, our society deems
such service a burden. Day care centers and nursing homes have replaced friends
and neighbors who used to fill gaps that families alone couldn’t bridge. Few
and far between, but mercifully not gone altogether, are the hands that deem it
an honor to care for little ones who can’t give anything back – yet – and for
wrinkled ones who gave till they could no longer give, and now face the
ignominy of having to receive on a regular basis. Abortionists and “physicians”
wielding lethal needles stand ready to end the “inconvenience” of unwanted lives.
But I digress.
Now let’s consider the grease and
grime of transportation. Who doesn’t love tooling around in a polished ride
with leather seats, but have you ever seen a well-scrubbed mechanic? Even on
date night, there’s dirt under his fingernails. In all honesty, though, would
you trust your car to a guy with a manicure and French cuffs?
I think not. Because those less
than pristine hands bespeak work. Hard work born of expertise and a willingness
to dig around in areas that aren’t pretty to keep motors running in top notch
condition.
Just as caring for the young and the old
and even automobiles is dirty, unglamorous work, so was the work of salvation.
If, as the Bible proclaims, the
heart is deceitful and desperately wicked beyond comprehension, it
stands to reason the cure for what ails the heart wouldn’t be lilies and rose
water. It took something strong and impenetrable to combat the magnitude of sin
– the death of God Himself.
The muddiness of Christ’s manger bed prefigured the bloodiness of His brutal death. He didn’t come into a tidy world, and He certainly didn’t expect to keep His hands clean. Even the profession He inherited from His earthly father – carpentry – called for calluses and blisters.
What a Savior.
