The Miracle of the Mop Lady in Bethlehem: The Miracle Story All our Hopes & Fears Need

I stood in Bethlehem once and there were stars unblinking in their brave hope, right there over that little town of Bethlehem.

I’d stood there for a long time, neck craning, right outside the Church of the Nativity, looking up with a holy imagination and prayers that deeply know that He’s the realest reality.

No matter any outcome… Hope always still comes

And then I’d finally turned and bent low to walk into the Church of the Nativity — because there is no finding Hope until you humble yourself to believe.

Our guide said the door is impossibly low so that pilgrims couldn’t ride their steeds, their camels, their donkeys, straight into the Church of His Nativity.

I’d stood silently with that for a long time by that low, carved inner door and something settles into me:

No one gets to meet God unless they let go of any laurels they’re riding high on or counting on, and the doorway to God is only for those who humbly bow before God as the One who is over all.

It’s a deep relief: Any problem shrinks low when we humbly just exalt Christ on High.

And when you bend low through that door in the Church of the Nativity, and you come close to that place in Bethlehem, kneel down and touch the place where the Creator of the Cosmos birthed Himself as a creature… where God came to this sod? That’s what strikes me:

God is with us.

God let His divinity fill a container of skin and filled His lungs with all the hurt of here and God is here right now with us.

We aren’t alone in this mess. We aren’t alone in any hopelessness.

Us on this pale blue dot of a planet in the vast blackness of the cosmos — we are “the visited planet.” He came. He sees. He knows. We are not alone.

Emmanuel comes to give the gift of withness. Withness in the tenderness, withness in the brokenness, withness in the messiness, withness in the aloneness. He knows the whole story of every one of our stories, all the unspoken broken, He knows it all, & He stills whispers: “I’m with you. That’s my name – Emmanuel, this is who I AM: God with you.”

Nothing is asked or required of you — Emmanuel just wants to be with you.

When you kneel exactly where they say the Star-Maker first came and grazed earth — you kinda exhale in awe:

The gift you get is the presence of God, Emmanuel, who wants to be in your presence, who wants to be with you, who chooses to be with you, who is with you right now, not because of anything you do, or anything you can do, or anything you have to do, but simply because He chooses to be with you.

Kneeling there in Bethlehem, wrecked by the incomprehensibility of the Maker of the Universe pulling on flimsy flesh to come be with us, all I can think is how the the Holy Other curls His newborn fist in the cradle of a barn feed trough — and we are all saved from our hopelessness because God came with infant fists and opened wide His hand to take the nail sharp edge of our sins and take us close to Himself, to give us Himself.

So now we get the withness of God, we get courage from the heart of God with us, we always get the tender face of God, no matter what we face. You don’t get criticalness, you don’t get harshness, you don’t get resentfulness — you get withness. You can be behind, be imperfect, fall short of expectations – and that is always still what you get – you get the withness of God.

In the midst of all our tender heartache and questions, God gave us more than explanations –God gave us an actual experience of Himself, because God knows explanations can be cold & Christ’s arms and heart are warm.

I trace the stars they’ve engraved right into the floor of the Church of the Nativity — running my fingertips over those stars again and again, and there is One who came through all the cosmic dark like a star and His light embraces our own tender, bruised hearts …

And there may be loss and there may be some sadness and yes, there is unspoken broken —but there is always, always, always Hope.

Stories may not have gone as we hoped — but Hope is not gone. Hope comes down, and Hope never, ever stops coming. No matter any outcome… Hope always still comes. He took on skin and comes with lung and warm breath because this is the gift we all need: Hope Himself came down to be our Hope and resuscitate that hope you can’t afford to let die. Let your broken heart prepare Hope room.

Prepare Hope room and prepare room for things to change and people to change, and the hurting to not hurt, and the wounders to heal, and the impossible to find a possible way, and let nothing stop you from following the star this Christmas to where Hope comes down to the darkest, lowest places. 

Because Christmas is coming right now for where we feel sadness and loss and tenderness. Christmas is coming right now for the sadness we can’t speak out loud, for the unspoken broken that has cracked a bit of heart — and all our hopes and fears are held in Him, Emmanuel, the One who is coming right now to crush all fears and despair and dark and is here, right now with us.

A heart can keep burning within…

And when I’d ascend the back stairs from the basement of the Church of the Nativity with its starry floor…. I stand at the back of the Church of the Nativity for awhile, looking up at the lit stained glass telling the story of His birth, rising there like a star above the altar. Stand there — waiting. Waiting for God knows what.

Waiting for God to come make His presence known, that we can feel His withness, feel the hope of Him here.

And that’s the moment when I’d heard the slosh of water, heard a spilling of water, up near the altar.

And then a woman, bent and small, she’s stepped out of the shadows — with her mop.

I watched as she’d began this slow choreography of grace across the floor — with her mop.

This dear woman is mopping up the birthplace of God.

She’s mopping up the mess down here — a bit like God came down here to mop up our mess. Our mess of hopelessness and weariness and and all kinds of unspoken brokenness.

But I can hear music? Music echoing — ?

Where in the world is the music coming from? Haunting notes, high and lovely. From the dark? From behind the altar?

Her shoulders, her shoulders, are moving with the notes.

That’s where the music’s coming from:

The music’s coming from her. The music’s coming from within her.

She turns with her mop and the whole thing feels like I’ve walked in on the heavenly host welcoming Him, anointing Him and I kneel low — like shepherds who have to bow in worship too — and something in me brims…. and spills.

O little town of Bethlehem…the hopes and fears of all our years…

And I can feel the beat and refrain of it now within me:

We aren’t abandoned in all this — we get to let it all go and abandon ourselves to God.

We get to let go — and be small and let God do it all, be our all, make a way through it all.

We get to let go — and let God near, let God be with us, Hope with us here.

And here is this exquisite woman, with her bent back and humble mop letting her heart pour out to God, in the place where God first touched this sod, first let His loud cry mingle with humanity.

And here I am, a kneeled mess who can’t stop spilling, my shoulders moving with the breaking of my heart over the beauty and rightness of her lowly offering, right where He Himself came low and offered Himself.

The woman leans her mop up against a pew.

She steps in close toward me.

And then she cups my face in her wrinkled, warm hands.

What in the world is happening? 

And then she gently kisses my one wet cheek — and then kisses my other wet cheek.

My tears are being kissed by a stranger — an angel? — in the birthplace of God.  There’s hope in all our hurts, when we bend low, lean in, become like Jesus to each other. 

And all I can hear is this angelic whispering to a heartbroken world: “Do not be afraid — for you have found favor with God.”

And favor isn’t found merely with God — favor is found beside God. Favor is found by those who let God stay the closest beside them, right here with them.

The woman’s eyes search me and my eyes search hers — and it’s this holy moment in Bethlehem, in the Church of the Nativity. This is a meeting. Our eyes meet and rest in each other — with each other. God with us.

And she nods and smiles and I try to smile brave through tears.

And I exhale with the grace of it all:

You don’t have to work for the coming of the Lord—you don’t have to work for hope, work for rescue, work for Christmas.

There’s no performing Christmas, producing Christmas, or perfecting Christmas.

There is only Christmas finding us — grace finding even us. Hope finding even us, God with us.

He will prepare your heart for the coming of the Lord.

“This is the true preparedness of heart for coming to Christ—the preparedness of coming to Him just as you are,” Charles Spurgeon wrote.

Just as you are, right where you are, He unfolds Himself in that mess that is your impossible, in the mucked straw you wish was different, right in the stench that doesn’t carry any scent of hope. Rejected at the inn, holy God comes in small to where you feel rejected and a bit hopeless and small and God is with you now.

Wherever you are any unspoken broken—God always wants to be with you. You are not ever left alone. The presence of God with us is the gift… Love comes down, and no matter what, He loves to be with you…

You always get your Christmas miracle. You get God with you.

The Woman with the Mop in the Bethlehem Birthplace of God, she stands beside me, touches my streaming tears with her fingertips, wipes my cheek in this caress of communion and this right here is the heart of God:

He kisses us with grace and holds us with hope and wraps us with love and we are soul-safe always in Him.

As the Angel with a Mop in Bethlehem wipes away a bit of my spilling….. it’s the holy that happened under that one blazing star in a manger in Bethlehem that wipes away all our tears and fears and all our hopes are meeting in the love of Him right now.

The stars over Bethlehem, and all of us, sing clear, and all our hearts hear….even here and now.  

Come continue the journey from Christmas… and turn & gaze on the One who gave you His whole life, His whole heart ―and you’ll find the love you’ve been looking for your whole life, come be Loved To Life …

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