1 Corinthians 1:18
I thought about it during Christmas time. God - condensing Himself into a human baby. The Maker of the universe somehow fit His immensity into mere molecules. That should have been one dense little baby :) The One who created life became fragile, breakable life.
I find it awe-inspiring. The stuff of tinkly, twinkly Christmas music. Ephemeral, mystical, fairy tale-ish.
Immortal, all powerful God became helpless flesh. But, He shouldn't. He couldn't. Could He?
Ruth Bell Graham - Billy's wife - said somewhere in a book I read (and now can't find) that it is a holy thing to have a Christmas time baby. You feel some of the awe young Mary must have, struggling through very immediate and tangible labor pain reality to birth the supernatural Son of God. The closest I've come is to have a January baby, so I can only commiserate by having been "great with child" around the end of December, looking like I could quite feasibly have squashed a little donkey under my girth. (For the record, though this has nothing to do with my point, I've often wondered if Mary had to walk. Would a poor couple really have had a donkey at their disposal? I don't know, its not in Luke 2, just a thought. Take that donkey out of the nativity scene and shake it up a bit.)
A baby is a miracle. How is it possible life could come out of me? There are fingers, toes, a personality - through me, but separated from me, complete apart from me. Aside from the science of the birds and the bees, it really seems like something comes from nothing. There was no life. Suddenly, there is a beach ball kicking my ribs, then labor, then a squalling child. A mind, a beating heart, a life. A miracle. I cannot comprehend this.
How could I understand then, the miracle on top of this miracle? Supernatural life became human life. The world didn't put up Christmas trees and buy extra scotch tape and eggnog when any of my babies were born, miracles though they were. Jesus' birth was extra special. Incomprehensibly special.
If I were just into Christmas for the stocking stuffers and pretty decorations at the mall, I would translate this miracle as ridiculous. Foolish. One commentary translated it "scandalous." The message of the cross is utterly scandalous - God, in the flesh, born to die so we might live with Him. Crazy.
Unless, I suppose, I grasp that He did it because He loves us. He loves me. Because He wanted me, God of heaven stopped at nothing to get to me on earth. He pushed aside the flesh and blood barrier between us, not simply for fun. He wasn't bored in glorious heaven so decided to sleep in a stinking manger on a whim. That would be ridiculous. He changed the foundational laws of spiritual and physical worlds so He, King of heaven, Son of man, could know us in both. He changed the laws of physics (He made them, after all) to be with us. To save us. That's power. That's love. Scandalous love.
P.S. Talk about scandal - this was our tree this year. Documented, in all its glory. It was chosen and cut by my five year old in Grampy's back yard. They thought it was the most beautiful tree ever. Defeated the moment it came across the threshold, I let them have their way with it. It was a wonderful Christmas.
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