As the Christmas season reaches its apex, finding time and room to contemplate God’s greatest gift to us may be difficult, but nudges me with its urgency. Son of God, already a perfect being who had created the very world He would condescend to, could have been introduced here in any number of ways befitting the King whose title He deserved millenia before the Nativity, before Golgotha, before the empty tomb. Yet He came as one of us, a helpless Babe who would need swaddling clothes to comfort and contain the flailing limbs. The hands that shaped a universe, carved commandments into stone tablets, touched sixteen clear stones to light the deep, and that would tremble under cruel nails could only reflexively curl around Mary’s fingers as He suckled, utterly dependent, at her breast. Surrounded by servile animals and outcast from the community of human shelter, the new little family–inextricably and eternally linked with the human family–commenced an earthly work that would culminate in an act so powerful that it reaches both forward and backward in time to save every soul willing to receive it.
Oh, come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!