God’s Gift From Above
Randall & Georgia Caselman
12/17/97
God's Gift From Above
Two of my favorite writers are
Ken Gire and
Max Lacado. I have taken the liberty to combined and edit some of their thoughts.
For the census, the royal family has to travel for miles. Joseph walks, while Mary, nine months pregnant, rides. The inn is packed, people feeling lucky if they were able to negotiate even a small space on the floor. It is late, everyone is asleep, and there is no room. The stable is crowded with animals. A small oil lamp flickers to dance shadows on the walls. A disquieting place for a woman in childbirth. Far from home. Far from family. Far from what she had expected for her firstborn. But Mary makes no complaint.
A scream knifes through the silent night. Sweat pours from her face. Joseph, the most unlikely midwife in all Judea, rushes to her side. Mary has to push with all her strength, almost as if God were refusing to come into the world without her help. Joseph prays. The animals watch. The Messiah, God in flesh arrives. The Son of God umbilically tied to a lowly Jewish girl. Jesus cries. Deity nursing from a young maiden’s breast. Could anything be more puzzling, or more profound? Joseph is silent, filled with wonder.
The baby nurses and sighs, the Word reduced to a few unintelligible sounds. Then, for the first time, his eyes find Mary’s. Deity straining to focus.
The Light of the World, squinting. Tears pool in her eyes. She touches his tiny hand. Hands that once sculpted mountain ranges, and scooped out the oceans, cling to her finger.
And so, with barely a notice, God stepped into humanity; without protocol, without pretension. Where we would have expected heads of state, there were only donkeys, a few haltered cows, a nervous bunch of sheep, a tethered camel, and a scurry of curious barn mice. Yes, there were angels announcing the Savior’s arrival, but only to a band of lowly shepherds. And yes, a magnificent star shone in the sky to mark his birthplace, but only a small band of foreigners bothered to follow it.
Thus in the little town of Bethlehem, one silent night, the royal birth of God’s Son tiptoed quietly by, as the world slept. It all happened in a moment, a most remarkable moment. But in reality, that particular moment was like none other. For in that segment of time a spectacular thing occurred. God became a man. The omnipotent, in one instant, made himself breakable. He who had been
spirit became pierceable. He who was larger than the universe became an embryo. God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created.
God had come near.
He came, not as a flash of light or as an unapproachable conqueror, but as one whose first cries were heard by a peasant girl and a sleepy carpenter. No silk. No ivory. No hype. No party. No hoopla. Were it not for shepherds, there would have been no reception. And were it not for stargazers, there would have been no gifts.
And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men. Angels watched as Mary changed God’s diaper. The universe watched with wonder as God learned to walk. Children played in the streets with him. Had the synagogue leader in Nazareth known who was listening to his sermons, would he have taught differently? Perhaps a girl down the street had a crush on him or vice versa.
Jesus, while completely divine, was completely human. For thirty-three years he would feel everything you and I have ever felt. He felt weak. He grew weary. He was afraid of failure. His feelings got hurt. His feet got tired. His head ached. To think of Jesus in such a light is, well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn’t it? It is much easier to keep the humanity out of the incarnation. There is something about keeping him divine that keeps him distant, packaged, predictable. But don’t do it—Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him into the mire and muck of our world. For only if we let him in can he pull us out.
Listen to him.
•
Love your neighbor as yourself was spoken by a man whose
neighbors tried to kill him.
• The challenge to leave family for the gospel was issued by one
who kissed his mother good-bye, saying
I must be about my
Father’s business.
•
Pray for those who despitefully use you, came from lips that
would soon be begging God to forgive his murderers.
•
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will
give you rest is the invitation from the soverign God and creator.
•
I am with you always, are words of a God who in one instant
did the impossible to make it all possible for us.
It all happened in a moment. In one most remarkable moment, the
Word became flesh. There will be another such moment. The world will see another instantaneous transformation. In becoming man, God made it possible for man to live with Him forever. When Jesus went home he left the door open. As a result,
we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.
It is called the Gospel, Good news!
For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: The chastisement of our peace was upon him; And with his stripes we are healed.
The invitation is for us to accept and respond to Jesus for who He is, the Son of God offered as a sacrifice for our sins.
May the Peace of Jesus’ coming fill your heart this Holiday Season and may God richly bless you and yours as you have us.
—
RANDALL AND GEORGIA CASELMAN
