Every year, families, churches, and communities across the country set up nativity scenes in homes, along roadsides, in front of churches, and in town squares. These displays serve as seasonal reminders of the Christmas story, which includes the journey to Bethlehem, the birth of baby Jesus, and the presence of the angels and shepherds.

During my first Christmas serving as pastor of First Baptist Church in Pensacola, I learned that Eliot and Frances Dobelstein, long-time members of the congregation, had faithfully displayed a nativity scene on the southwest corner of the church lawn every Advent since 1972.

One afternoon, Eliot and Frances stopped by my office to share the story behind the display and the challenges they faced in maintaining it. Because the manger scene sat along a busy street, it often became an easy target for mischief. Over the years, various characters were defaced, rearranged, or occasionally went missing. Shepherds and wise men would disappear, only to be discovered days later in odd places. But the most frequent victim was the baby Jesus. More than once, someone had plucked the baby from the manger, leaving only an empty trough between Mary and Joseph.

Despite these frustrations, Eliot never gave up. Whenever a piece went missing, he replaced it. He secured the figures as best he could and made extra trips past the display to discourage would-be pranksters.

But in 2007, to prevent the baby Jesus from being taken yet again, Eliot decided enough was enough. Determined to prevent another “messianic kidnapping,” he wrapped a sturdy chain around the baby Jesus and fastened it with a padlock. To conceal the chain, he draped a worn blanket over the figure, giving the appearance of swaddling clothes.

“No one’s taking Jesus this year,” he thought confidently.

But he was wrong.

A few days before Christmas, Eliot walked into the church office looking more discouraged than I had ever seen him. The baby Jesus was gone—again.

Sam Solomon, our maintenance supervisor, and I followed Eliot to the scene. There, in the empty manger, lay the broken remains of the chain. Someone had come with bolt cutters, snipped through the links, and made off with Jesus once more.

For the first time, Eliot looked genuinely defeated. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said.

Still unwilling to leave the manger completely empty, he placed a small bundle of hay in the trough and covered it with the same blanket—creating the impression that the baby Jesus was still there. But Eliot, Sam, and a few staff members knew the truth: this year, the manger held no Christ child.

Yet the story wasn’t over.

When Sam arrived at church early on January 2—the first day the office reopened after the New Year’s holiday—he noticed something propped against the glass doors of the atrium. He left it there for me to see when I arrived a short time later.

At first glance, it looked like a forgotten doll. Perhaps a child had dropped it or a neighborhood dog had dragged it there. Maybe one of our homeless friends had slept by the door and left it behind.

But as I approached, I recognized it immediately. It was the missing baby Jesus, with a folded note was taped to its chest.

Scrawled in uneven handwriting were these words:

“I took this before Christmas, and I have not been able to sleep much since then. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. So I am bringing it back home.”

I stood there for a moment, letting the words sink in. I hadn’t expected that.

I hated that Jesus had been stolen, especially after all of Eliot’s efforts to secure the display. Yet somehow, I found comfort in the return of that simple plastic figure—the one meant to represent the Savior of the world.

After sharing the news with our staff, I called Eliot.

“I thought you’d want to know,” I said. “The stolen baby Jesus has been returned.”

I could hear the relief in his voice.

Later that day, as I reflected on what had happened, I found myself wrestling with an unexpected question: What do you do with a stolen Jesus?

And then it struck me. The only thing you can do with a misplaced Jesus is bring him back to his rightful place in your life story.

Perhaps you have mis-taken Jesus, and you need to bring Jesus home to where he belongs.

Or maybe, you are the one who has wandered away, and this year, you are the one who needs to come home.