We assume that Mary rode a donkey to Bethlehem.

We assume Bethlehem was filled with uncaring innkeepers.

We assume Mary gave birth in a stable.

We assume the star shone overhead that night.

We assume the magi showed up that night, too, and there were three of them.

We assume many things about the Nativity, but the truth is that the Bible doesn't tell us any of those things. We don't know how Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem, or where they stayed. We don't know when the star first began to shine. We don't know when the magi showed up, or how many there were.

I can't help but wonder if, instead of helping us enjoy the story, all our assumptions are mostly keeping it encased within a snow globe of sentimentality.

Because quite often, assumptions can become an obstacle to our faith. They do us no good when reading Scripture, and they can also prevent us from living with more grace and love. Assumptions have a strange habit of turning negative. Quite often we assume the worst – from ourselves, from others, and from the world – which then leads to those assumptions becoming real, further reinforcing the negative loop.

In his lovely little Advent collection, Honest Advent, author and illustrator Scott Erickson writes,

"Assumptions hinder our spiritual journey in all kinds of ways, and the antidote to assumption is surprise."[1]

When we are surprised, the bubbles of our assumptions burst, which means surprise is one of God's greatest tools in overcoming the negative loop of cynicism to bring more grace and love into the world.

Surprise is how Mary felt at Gabriel's announcement.

Surprise is how Joseph felt when he learned of Mary's pregnancy.

Surprise is what the shepherds felt when the angels appeared in the sky.

Surprise is what the magi felt when they found the new king not in a palace, but in a humble home.

Yes, the story of the Nativity is filled with surprises, because God is a master of surprise. Which we might notice if we stopped assuming we already know everything, and started paying more careful attention. So, in this season when we assume we already know how the story goes, be on the lookout for a few surprises. And not only in gospels, but also in your own life, too.

It's a surprise that God delights in choosing the most ordinary people for the most extraordinary jobs.

It's a surprise how the biggest works of God begin in the smallest places.

It's a surprise how much good can happen when we say yes to God.

It's a surprise how much better generosity feels than self-satisfaction.

It's a surprise how much God is still in love with our world.

[1] Scott Erickson, Honest Advent (Zondervan, 2020), 91.