In the quiet of early morning, two weeks before Christmas, I’m sitting in my office reflecting on the season. The dark wood of an empty crib gleams in the flickering light of a single candle.
We’re expecting two new grandchildren — one any day now, the other next month. The crib is for nap times at Nana’s house. But right now, looking at that crib, I’m not thinking about little Zaccai or Helaina.
I’m thinking about a baby born two thousand years ago.
I consider how small Jesus made himself for our sakes. The one for whom and by whom and through whom all things were made allowed himself to be reduced to a newly-conceived human.
Incredible. The tiny Son of God, growing inside the womb of a poor, young Jewish girl whose people suffer under the rule of Rome.
How much more vulnerable could God make himself?
A zygote, too small to see. Then an embryo the size of a grain of rice. Then a coffee-bean-sized fetus.
The womb can be a tricky place to stay alive. For one thing, one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage. That we survive those nine months, and the birth following them, is something of a miracle, every time.
So the Holy Spirit causes this inconceivable conception of the God-man. Abba Father knits together cells and sinews, brain and bones. Jesus, God incarnate, slowly grows, vulnerable, fragile, helpless.
Finally it is time, and he is squeezed through darkness into the rough, cold, stinking world. The Messiah come at last — as tiny babe.
And he’s only begun making himself small for our sakes. He grows up to endure misunderstanding, rejection, hostility, and finally, unthinkable violence.
The agony of betrayal, the lashing whip ripping flesh from bone, the ring of thorns smashed onto his head, the asphyxiating torment of the cross.
He takes it all, on purpose. For us.
See, Jesus came to a dangerous place so he could become our safe place.
He made himself fragile to give us his strength. He became vulnerable so we could finally open our hearts in love, without fear.
This is the why of Christmas, and yet…
Christmas is not a great time of year for many of us. Perhaps you lost a loved one not long ago. Perhaps your marriage ended and you are trying to figure out going it alone.
Or your bills are stacked up to infinity, or your health has gone down the toilet, or you recently had to relinquish a lifelong dream.
Maybe Christmas has always served to remind you of all the dysfunction you’ve had to overcome.
The bright lights and tinsel, the cheery activities, the festive music, none of it covers your pain. None of it cleans up your mess.
But what if Christmas isn’t about uber-decorating and buying a bunch of gifts? What if it’s not about random, sentimental human good will?
What if it’s more about quieting our souls long enough to receive the real gift –the gift of God himself?
All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). –Matthew 1:22,23
God with us. With you. In the middle of your issues, God is present, caring, upholding.
This Christmas, you may feel fragile, vulnerable, and small. You may feel squeezed by darkness, looking for hope. Jesus left the splendor of heaven to be that hope.
He is with you. He is for you. And he is enough.
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