Shock and Awe

 Consider for a moment what Jesus left behind in heaven and what he entered when he was born.

The opulent splendor of streets of gold were exchanged for roads and alleys of dirt and rock, littered with the refuse of society, both in terms of people and waste.

The radiant glory of sitting at the Father’s right hand was given up to be placed in a squalid, musty hay trough.

Instead of the breathtaking majesty of the halls of heaven, Jesus was pleased to be born in a stable with the dank, pungent, and acrid aromas of livestock.

The ceaseless praise of angels was replaced by the anguished screams and tears of a teenage mother giving birth in the humblest of places.

Whereas heaven offered beautiful holiness, birth as a human left him covered in blood and viscera.

The adulation and honor due to Him as Lord and Creator were set aside to take on a humble beginning of near-anonymity.

The sheer magnitude of the cosmic shift that Jesus chose with the incarnation is staggering. The gritty earthiness and inglorious humanity that we see at Christmas runs counter to everything that our modern, sterile, and Western minds would want in the birth of our children. Perhaps surprisingly, the same would probably have been said by nearly every expectant mother 2,000 years ago, especially Mary who had been promised by God to deliver the Savior of the world. 

The nativity of the gospels ought to shock us in its presentation of the God of the universe taking on flesh. The manner of His birth is near disgraceful according to nearly every human sensibility. Nothing about it says “King of kings” or “Lord of lords” and yet it is what God chose “in the fullness of time.” His birth would have passed in near anonymity had it not been for the extraordinary visitations from angels and a star.

This jaw dropping display of humility says an awful lot about the God that Christians celebrate at Christmas. While worthy of all honor and praise, He is willing to set it all aside to be with those He loves. God does not shy away from the lowly or the broken. If Christmas shows us anything, it is that He identifies with exactly those kind of people.

Jesus takes on humanity in the most humble of manners so that we too might reject the pride or fear that keeps us from coming to Him. There is no need or place for pretense with Jesus. Christ’s own birth bears testimony to the glorious fact that we can come to Him as naked and helpless as the day we were born. When we come to Him, with all of our own hidden and exposed brokenness, grittiness, guilt, and shame, we can expect nothing but a joyful welcome into His arms.

As you celebrate Christmas, do what Christ did in both His birth and His death: scorn the shame and leave guilt behind. Have no second thoughts on whether or not you are enough. The fact that we celebrate His lowly birth in a stable ought to give us great courage in bringing our own “lowliness” into the light. He did it all for love.

Immanuel, God with us.

In our mess.

With a full view of our brokenness.

Knowing the guilt, shame, fear, and pride that keep us from Him.

And still with us!