I stood in front of a crowd of several dozen refugees. They looked at me, a foreigner with a thick American accent, and patiently smiled. These refugees represented several nationalities, most of them coming from neighboring war-torn countries.

The staff and students at the training center where I volunteer once a week are predominately Muslim. They don’t celebrate Christmas. Still, they had wanted to have a Christmas party. It was an excuse to celebrate—because for them, any joyous event is a welcome release from the burdens of refugee life.

Streamers, balloons, and lights all decorated the room, and ‘Happy Christmas’ was written in large letters on the chalkboard.

I clenched my notebook and opened to a page with the outline of my speech in English and all the Arabic words I was prone to forget. Butterflies fluttered about in my stomach.

I wanted to tell the Christmas story. So in simple Arabic, I started with the angel’s visit to Mary and worked my way through the wondrous account of Jesus’ birth.

The students were all quiet, listening—perhaps more out of the novelty of hearing a blond- haired foreigner speak the local dialect of Arabic. But they listened.

“The angel came to Joseph and said, ‘Get up! Go with Mary and baby Jesus and flee to Egypt.’ So they scrambled, fleeing the impending carnage, and came to Egypt.”

I paused, and then said to them, “Jesus, too, was a refugee.” Tears burned in my eyes. There was a collective sigh from this beautiful group of refugees as they pondered that reality.

Meanwhile, I was undone in a way I had never been with that portion of the story.

Jesus’ humble transition from Heaven to earth not only started with lowly beginnings. It continued as He and His family joined the wave of refugees en route to Egypt.

Jesus walked these dusty paths. He was hungry and thirsty. He ached and spent nights without shelter. He cried sometimes. He, too, was a refugee.

Jesus personally knows what life is like for someone fleeing violence and war. He endured this for them, so that they could say, “He really does understanding suffering as I understand it.” The Savior endured this so that all the families of the earth would be blessed through Him.

Looking across the room, I could see Jesus in the rapt faces before me. “Truly, I say to you,” says the Son of Man in His glory, “as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).

In this moment, marveling with roomful of refugees over the miracle of Heaven’s Refugee, Christmas became more raw, real, and beautiful than ever before.

**This comes from a long-term field worker who lives in North Africa.**

Original article: FrontiersUSA.org/blog/article/the-raw-reality-of-christmas