Jamin Bradley

During a recent visit to the grocery store wonderland that is Horrocks, I came across a gummy bear brat, which is exactly what it sounds like: a bratwurst with gummy bears inside of it. This strange combination originated out of Wisconsin and has grown in popularity. I bought myself a few of them, but I have yet to give them a try, so the jury is still out.

Jesus is kind of like a gummy bear brat. He’s the secret ingredient we weren’t expecting. He’s a unique and acquired taste.

Sometimes we tear the brat apart and eat around the gummy bears, and then proclaim that Jesus is great. But Christmas reminds us that we have to accept the whole brat. The very heavens come alive in the Christmas story to tell us that our miraculous baby refugee king has been born in a feeding trough in a barn. Stars and angels proclaim the wonder of this moment, but still we often set our eyes on palaces and power—the places we think miracles, stars, and angels belong. We want the brat to taste like it’s supposed to.

As one worship song sings, “Wouldn’t it be like you, to be different than we thought, different than we want, but better.” This is the gospel of the gummy bear bratwurst (which hopefully I will enjoy, given the metaphor I’ve now created). This Christmas, might we see Jesus as he is and ask ourselves where we’ve tried to normalize him.