“O Come, O Come, Immanuel,” is one of my favorite Christmas carols. A musical child, I was first arrested by its haunting melody.  Later, its plaintive lyrics resonated with my teenage contemplations. As an adult, I’m even more captivated by these elements and also heartened by the final stanza’s call for Christ to return and right the world once and for all.

But as I consider what “Immanuel” – God with us  – has meant to me over the years, I’ve also come to realize Mary and Joseph’s experience of God’s presence was likely different from what we imagine.  

The gospel of Luke tells us that Joseph and Mary traveled to Bethlehem to comply with a Roman census, where Mary gave birth to Jesus in a stable because the inns were full. While this chain of events fulfilled the prophecy that Jesus would be born in Bethlehem, there’s no prophecy stating Jesus had to be born in a stable. 

Mary got an angelic message announcing she would bear the Savior of the world, and Joseph got a dream reassuring him that Mary’s child was the Son of God, not the result of her infidelity. But neither of them got additional information on the specifics surrounding Jesus’ birth. Instead, as Mary’s time approached, they found themselves faced with a 90-mile trek teeming with wild animals and robbers, not to mention the possibility that Mary could give birth along the way. 

Furthermore, have you considered the social pressure they must have endured throughout Mary’s pregnancy? Unwed motherhood carried the death penalty in biblical times. Although Mary and Joseph could infer from their angelic messages that Mary’s life would be spared, her survival wouldn’t have protected them from severe stigma.

Giving birth in a stable after an arduous, 90-mile trek and nine months of false accusations (or worse), must have felt like rock bottom for Joseph and Mary, even if they’d been told their baby would be the savior of the world. It’s also interesting that as far as we know they never saw the “heavenly hosts” that appeared to the shepherds, or the star that guided the wise men. Nevertheless, I’m sure that visitors who joyfully acknowledged their baby’s identity were a welcome relief.

But it’s also relevant to note that the historical story of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus doesn’t end at the manger. The gospel of Matthew tells us that the wise men alerted King Herod to the fact that there was potentially a new “king of the Jews” on the scene, and he ruthlessly murdered all baby boys under 2 years old in Bethlehem.

But what did the massacre mean for Joseph and Mary? Although Matthew tells us an angel alerted Joseph ahead of time, and the family escaped to Egypt, have you imagined what their exile must have been like? They’d just endured the stigma of an unwed pregnancy and given birth in horrific conditions, only to receive unlooked-for encouragement through supernatural intervention. Just when things were starting to look brighter, Mary and Joseph found themselves fleeing to a foreign country – and not just any foreign country, but one with almost a thousand years of animosity toward their own. A place where no one spoke their language, let alone worshiped their God. Mentioning their son was going to be the Savior of the world was off the table.

My point in highlighting these aspects of the Christmas story is not to make things sound unduly negative, but to suggest that our concept of what “God with us” means could be broadened. Mary and Joseph had at least four direct supernatural encounters (the visit from the angel Gabriel and Joseph’s three dreams), and the incredible privilege of watching Jesus grow from infancy to adulthood. But these supernatural events occurred relatively close together, and we know little about the rest of their lives.

In my own life, although God has worked supernaturally twice, I still deal with physical limitations and relational stressors that have made recent months challenging. When we’re discouraged, it’s easy to focus on the high points – whether the ones we read about in Scripture, or see around us – and compare our assumptions of God’s presence in others’ lives with our experience of God’s presence in our own. The truth is God is always with us, whether we feel him there or not. 

Luke 2:19 tells us, “But Mary kept all these things in her heart, and she thought about them often.”

Most likely, Jesus looked and acted like a regular baby, at least initially. Raising her first child in a hostile foreign country couldn’t have been easy.  But Mary had seen God’s power displayed unmistakably, and she was committed to renewing her mind. 

Whatever this season holds for each of us, I pray we will make a practice of calling to mind what God has already done, both as revealed in Scripture as well as in our own lives and the lives of those we love.

O come, desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease
And be Thyself our King of peace

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel