He Was One of Us
When people only want Christmas to be a sentimental story, it is lost on me. The reason for Christmas is a story, a very unique story. It is a story full of strong sentiment, but it is not sentimental! The story of Christmas is the story of the Incarnation. What a story! It has all the wildness of a romance, all the fierceness of an adventure, all the messiness of everyday life, and all the drama of a nail biter. The story of God entering the world is singular and epic. It is the story so amazing that, if it were not true, you would wish it was. And it is upon the verses of this story that the fate of our lives hangs.
The story of the Incarnation is bazaar actually. When have you ever seen someone of great renown, fame, and glory renounce it all for other people? When have you ever seen people with great power give it all away? When have you ever seen ultimate beauty willing to become ugly so that others can become beautiful? Well? Our soul longs for that kind of goodness and love doesn't it? Low and behold, what our soul so longs for actually comes true in the story of how God took our flesh. No one tells this story better than Max Lucado. Here are his reflections on the Incarnation. Enjoy!
God became a man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself and placed her most precious one in a human womb.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. And he who sustains the world with a word chose to be dependent upon the nourishment of a young girl.God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created.God was given eyebrows, elbows, two kidneys, and a spleen. He stretched against the walls and floated in the amniotic fluids of his mother.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. The hands that first held him were unmanicured, calloused, and dirty.No silk. No ivory. No hype. No party. No hoopla.Were it not for the shepherds, there would have been no reception. And were it not for a group of stargazers, there would have been no gifts.Angels watched as Mary changed God’s diaper. The universe watched with wonder as The Almighty learned to walk. Children played in the street with him. And had the synagogue leader in Nazareth known who was listening to his sermons…Jesus may have had pimples. He may have been tone-deaf. Perhaps a girl down the street had a crush on him or vice versa. It could be that his knees were bony. One thing’s for sure: He was, while completely divine, 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. He was susceptible to wooing women. He got colds, burped, and had body odor. His feelings got hurt. His feet got tired. And his head ached.To think of Jesus in such a light is—well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn’t it? It’s not something we like to do; it’s uncomfortable. It is much easier to keep the humanity out of the incarnation. Clean the manure from around the manger. Wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Pretend he never snored or blew his nose or hit his thumb with a hammer.He’s easier to stomach that way. There is something about keeping him divine that keeps him distant, packaged, predictable.But don’t do it. For heaven’s sake, don’t. 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. (Max Lucado, God Came Near)
This Sunday we will talk about why it matters that Jesus was one of us!
Jim