My husband and I shared a chuckle the other night. We ran
into some friends who recently had a baby. They looked worked over. Their hair
was unkempt, bags under their eyes, shoulders slumped, and their pace slowed.
When we asked them how they were doing, their eyes lit up and they responded, “We’re
great.”
We chuckled, not to poke fun, but in certain memory. We have
two children of our own, ages 6 and 7. They were born a year apart. Overnight, our
priorities become so imminently connected to the priorities of those newborns. We
gave our bodies in service to the grueling demands of our infants who required
utter devotion while they violated countless boundaries (think a third feeding
at 4am).
Never once did we consider quitting and not because the work
was so rewarding or because we were always joyous (think a third feeding at 4am),
but because there was no other choice for us. We were captured and we remained
in faithful sacrificial service because we belonged.
There is no better way to compel us to closeness or to urge us
to belong, than to come into our lives as a vulnerable demanding newborn. Jesus,
our Lord and Savior, effectively brings us into relationship with our God in the most
irrational and humanly way possible. He is born.
