One morning this Christmas break, I huddled under the covers in our snow-covered home as Ashlyn pranced and bounced around the bedroom in nothing but her princess panties.
"That's my Ashie Nunga-Punga," I said. "Aren't you freezing, Ashie-Loca?"
"I'm wearing my birthday suit because it's going to be Jesus' birthday!" she explained, cheesy grin smeared across her face.
How's that for a WWJD moment?
I spend a lot of December wondering how much of our Christmas chaos might make the Birthday Boy roll over in His manger or grave--if He were still in either.
But this nunga punga thing? I think He'd kind of like it.
For a morning, a day, a season, or more if we dare, maybe He'd rather have us dance in the buff, out from under all the crusty layers we thought could hide what we thought needed hiding. Maybe He'd dig that more than all the other stuff we've come up with to honor His incarnation. Maybe when it comes to hiding the real thing, less really is more.
Maybe my barely prancing Ashie-Loca is on to something.
So happy birthday, Jesus. Here's to naked celebration that lasts even longer than your birthday party.