Christ's Humble Birth

About this time last year, I was heavy with child. I had become (as I call it) "weary in doing good". My body ached and spirit grieved the thought of another day of ferocious heartburn, practically living in the bathroom, and sleepless nights. I'll admit that I was plain miserable this time around. Benjamin came just seven days later and he was a joy to behold. The miracle of a newborn babe is indescribable. There is nothing simple about it except for the peaceful sleeping child who seems without care. So when I think of the Christ child this season, coming as a helpless, soft tender child, I am reminded of my own children. I am reminded of the pains of labor and the sweet victory of hearing their first cries and smelling their new fresh skin. I remember that Christ endured the same birth (without the modern medicine, of course!) that my own endured. I'm sure it was difficult for all involved!

It is amazing to fathom that my Christ came down in flesh, in the most helpless, raw circumstance a human experiences. That Christ's humble birth was in a feeding trough with mummy clothes, while most of our children lay in a posh hospital room with clean blankets and round the clock nurses.

Mary was traveling as she was counting down the days, trying to follow the law and record her and Joseph's names for the census. I don't know how she did it. I really don't.

Today, I'd like to say:
Thank you God for epidurals and comfortable electric beds. Thank you for ultrasounds and nurses and doctors. Thank you God for Mary who endured the demise of unwed pregnancy, a humble delivery, and hardship throughout and afterwards to bring the Son of God into the world who would pay the Greatest price for the most helpless of all - me and you, who can do nothing to better the condition of our hearts. Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord! for

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.