Why This Christmas I’m Going to Stop Teaching and Start Listening

Years ago, we bundled up our six kids one Christmas evening and took them to see a much-anticipated live nativity event.

It was bitterly cold, and we knew it would be.

When we arrived, the lines were longer than anticipated. Muuuuuch longer. Just to get on the hayride to drive up to the nativity was an hour-long wait.

We finally boarded a hayride after more than an hour and arrived at the start of the nativity line just as the sun was setting.

I could tell it would be a long night when I saw the enormous line winding up the hill to the barns. Our kids were still enjoying themselves as we walked past the camels, Roman soldiers, and cows feeding on grass in a pen.

Then, after a few minutes, the whining started.

“Daddy, I’m cold,” said my six-year-old.

“Will you hold me?” begged another.

“My legs hurt,” griped a third.  

The complaining and mumbling grew progressively worse and increasingly annoying.

My wife and I seriously considered leaving before we even got to walk through the “Bethlehem barn” with its activities from that era (and certainly not the manger scene that followed.)

Were the frigid temperatures and incessant complaining (understandable as it was) worth it?

We decided to tough it out in line and once we got into the barn we didn’t linger; we shot past everyone. The animals, games, and decorations-we skipped it all. We were just too cold.

Upon exiting, we were not thrilled to see another looong line.

More complaining. More whining. Even colder temperatures now.

After another fifteen minutes of waiting, we finally reached the last barn where they depicted the manger scene. We paused briefly there for a few moments to see Mary and Joseph sitting beside each other, with baby Jesus in Mary’s arms. The baby was miraculously asleep, which created a sacred and peaceful setting.

Not wanting to stay too long in anticipation of more lines ahead and dropping temperatures, we hurriedly corralled our children and promised them we would get some hot chocolate outside-certain that would get them moving.

But then, something very unexpected happened.

Our three-year-old daughter, Asia, who was the coldest of them all and had been complaining the most all night-the one who had been in the biggest hurry to leave-didn’t want to go.

In her adorable three-year-old voice she said, “I wa see mo Baby Geezus.” (I want to see more baby Jesus).

For the first time in an hour, she wasn’t complaining. She wasn’t focused on the cold. Her tired legs weren’t on her mind. She did not need to be held. She just wanted to behold. 

There was a very tangible spirit in that dimly lit barn that even a three-year-old could recognize. The Spirit of Christmas was communicating with her spirit. The Spirit of Christmas is Christ – and Asia was soaking it all in.

We parents often worry too much about teaching our kids “all they need to know”: the Christmas songs, the Christmas stories, the true meaning of Christmas. Perhaps along with our focus of teaching our children, we should be a little more attentive to learning from them as well.

I learned a priceless lesson from my daughter Asia that Christmas: I don’t need to worry as much about teaching her the true meaning of it all, she feels it when it is right before her. There are other forces from on high, much more qualified than I, who are touching her heart and revealing to her the things which require her attention.

The camels, the soldiers, the farm animals, and the lights – none of it captured her attention like a babe in the manger did. So this Christmas, don’t worry so much about teaching your children about the meaning of it all. Perhaps you can stand back, be still, and let them teach you.