This is a time of year when we tell stories—the same stories, over and over again. There’s the one about Rudolph, the reindeer with the radioactive nose who becomes a hero on a foggy Christmas eve. There’s the cranky introvert, Scrooge, who made everybody miserable until a tag-team of ghosts scared him out of it. And let’s not forget the one about another cranky introvert, the Grinch, who tried to steal his neighbors’ holiday spirit.

These are fun tales, but the best story of all, of course, is the account of Christ’s birth. And as many times as I’ve heard it (let’s not do the math), some element of it always amazes me. I’m struck by the unlikely characters: the young, unmarried woman chosen to birth the Son of God; the shepherds, no education or social connections, chosen to be among the first to stand in His presence.

I’m struck by the setting—a place foretold in Scripture, but arranged through a census, of all things. And of course there’s the stable that becomes the makeshift birthing room. Mothers, can you imagine delivering your first baby on a bed of straw?

All of these details tell us something about Jesus. He arrived among us in the humblest of ways, promising from the very start His affinity with the poor, the homeless, the persecuted, the “left out.” He chose people without the right sort of résumés to play a role in His birth—telling us that any of us can love and serve Him. He turned our whole notion of what a king is by coming not to conquer people, but to conquer sin.

The Christmas Story is also our story. We are the same “weary world rejoicing” at our Savior’s birth. The thrill of that day long ago becomes tangible to us right now. This Christmas, may you feel fresh exuberance in the coming of Jesus—and your heart filled to the brim with His life-changing presence.