One Christmas when I was a kid, I finally got my wish. It was bitterly cold outside, and my mom let our dogs, Butch and Pepper, come into the house. I was thrilled. Warm dogs, Christmas lights, and presents under the tree. It felt like the perfect holiday moment.
Then Butch walked over to the Christmas tree and relieved himself. Not just the tree, but several of the presents underneath as well.
That moment taught me an early lesson. You cannot invite joy into your life without also inviting a little mess. You can keep things neat and controlled, or you can open the door to what you love and accept the complications that come with it.
Scripture puts it this way: “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox” (Proverbs 14:4). A clean manger may look appealing, but it is also unproductive. The very presence of oxen, the source of strength and fruitfulness, guarantees disorder. Productivity always brings responsibility, inconvenience, and mess.
Ministry works the same way. If our goal is comfort, predictability, and minimal disruption, we can maintain a tidy environment. Fewer people. Fewer problems. Fewer demands. But that is not faithfulness. And it is not fruitfulness.
Real ministry is messy because people are messy. Discipleship takes time. Growth creates friction. Lives being transformed rarely follow a clean or predictable process. Late nights, hard conversations, emotional weight, shifting schedules, and unfinished to-do lists often accompany meaningful kingdom work.
And that mess does not stay at church. It follows the leaders home. It shows up in family calendars, dinner conversations, and energy levels. For spouses and families, ministry is not something they merely observe; it is something they actively participate in. It is something they absorb. They carry the overflow of calling alongside the ones who stand up front.
Yet the mess is not a sign of failure. It is evidence of life. It is proof that something real is happening. Just as fields do not produce crops without labor, churches do not bear fruit without the presence of people, problems, and perseverance.
At Christmas, we remember that God Himself chose to enter the mess. Jesus was not born into a controlled environment, but into a manger surrounded by animals, noise, and inconvenience. God did not avoid disorder. He redeemed it.
So as we reflect on another year of ministry, we do not measure success by how clean things remained. We give thanks for the fruit God produced through faithful people who were willing to live with the mess. In the kingdom of God, a messy manger often means a meaningful harvest.
