If I close my eyes I can see it. The joy, the held breaths, the anticipation. I picture angels watching silently, feeling every contraction Mary felt, as the birth of the Savior drew to its climax.
I’m struck this Christmas season by “God with us”. Struck that God would step down out of the majesty of Heaven to not only die for our sins, but to dwell with us. To dwell in us. Most probably because so much lately I’ve felt that He’s abandoned us and He’s directing every thought of mine to the fact that He hasn’t, that He is with us even in this.
So I see it in my mind’s imagination. That night when love was birthed out of a young Jewish girl. The pain and agony and the joy that angels declared in skies to mere shepherds.
God left His rightful place, His sanctuary to make us His sanctuary.
This servant-hood, this humility weighs heavy on me.
And I see that too…grace.
Grace lying in a food trough. Surrounded by the creation He formed out of dust and rib and spoken word. With the scent of animal waste filling the air.