Several years ago, I wrote a column defending the Christian community's constitutional right to display Nativity scenes in the public square. A few days later, I received a letter decrying Christians who are more concerned with making a public show of their faith than with their own personal testimonies.

"When we moved into our home, not once did a Christian knock on my door to invite me to church," the writer said. "And in your zeal to defend Nativity scenes in public places, I'll bet you don't even have a creche in your own front yard."

He was right. I didn't.

Like other Christians, I should abhor hypocrisy. When I find it in my own life, it's especially unsettling. The next day, I bought lumber and plastic Nativity figures. On a blustery afternoon in early December, as the sky spit snow flurries, I built a small creche. I constructed the roof out of old cedar shingles donated by my next-door neighbor. Though I had to replace the creche last year, the lesson I learned will never be forgotten.

Whenever secular political forces clash with Christianity in a public venue, secularism almost always wins. While it may not always have been this way in the United States, we now live in a post-Christian era. But the political elite's antipathy toward the Babe of Bethlehem has roots dating back to the first century. When Jesus came into this world, it was not with a public display of pomp and circumstance. No human fanfare accompanied his birth in Bethlehem, despite the Christ child's royal heritage, recorded in genealogies in both Matthew's and Luke's gospels, confirming that he was a direct descendant of David and the rightful heir to Israel's throne.

This was anticipated by the prophet Micah: "But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times" (Micah 5:2).

For a while, it appeared that first-century politics would trump biblical promises. Herod the Great took advantage of a long history of the corruption of Israel's high priests and kings caused by party strife, worldliness, ambition, corruption, and Hellenism. Using gold, he bribed his way to the throne of Judea, which he assumed in 40 B.C. under the consent of Octavian (later known as the Emperor Augustus), and a decree issued by the Roman Senate.

Jesus' Nativity stood in stark contrast to such corruption. He was not a political figure as some have argued. His was a birth steeped in meekness and humility, innocence and purity. He was born in a stable to the sounds and the smells of the barnyard. His tiny body was cradled in a feeding trough for the animals.

Jesus' and Herod's paths crossed after the king met with the Wise Men, who had followed a star predicting the birth of a Messiah. The men from the East arrived at Herod's court to worship the new king. On hearing the news, Herod ordered the slaughter of all 2-year-old boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity in an attempt to kill his potential rival (Matthew 2:16).

The angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, warning him to "take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt" (Matthew 2:13). Jesus' life was preserved. God again demonstrated that his will was able to prevail over the political agenda of powerful men who would attempt to silence the voice of God.

Jesus grew into manhood, beginning his public ministry at the age of 30. But he wasn't just an ordinary man. He was the sinless Son of God who claimed on several occasions to be God incarnate -- the same "I AM" who appeared to Moses in the form of a burning bush in the book of Exodus. (Compare Exodus 3:14 with John 8:58.)

The religious leaders of Jesus' day saw this claim as blasphemy. They recognized the remedy Mosaic law prescribed. When hearing this, "they picked up stones to stone him" (John 8:59). This clash of ideologies ultimately proved to be too much and Jesus was crucified. Once again, it appeared that politics had triumphed. But that victory was short-lived: Three days later, Jesus rose from the dead.

The right to display the external signs of the Christmas season pales in comparison to the privilege we Christians have as vessels through which God can exercise his will. When Christians concentrate on personal sanctification, they become conduits for the power of God in their lives and can influence the culture in ways far superior to that resulting from any right endowed by human governments.

"It is the great fact of the manifestation of Christ -- not its outward surroundings, however precious or touching they might be in connection with any ordinary earthly being -- to which our gaze must be directed," writes Alfred Edersheim in "The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah" (Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1976).

Oswald Chambers in "My Utmost for His Highest" (Discovery House Publishers, 1992), writes: "Have I allowed my personal human life to become a 'Bethlehem' for the Son of God? The evidence of the new birth is that I yield myself so completely to God that 'Christ is formed' in me. And once 'Christ is formed' in me, his nature immediately begins to work through me."

This Christmas season, let the secularists rage. Frankly, it really doesn't matter. God is above the political fray and his sovereignty will ultimately prevail. Let us make sure that Christ's Nativity has been firmly rooted in our hearts.

Original date of publication, Thursday December 20, 2001. Reproduced with permission of The Record (Bergen County, NJ).