Baby Jesus

This Christmas season, I’ve been reflecting on the fact that Jesus—the Savior, Creator, King—came as an infant.  An infant whose Mama could have dropped him on his head, or not responded immediately to his cry, or misinterpreted his cries and didn’t feed him when he was hungry.  Who knows… the chickens in the barn could have started pecking at him and although he could have fought back with his God-powers, he chose to be a helpless, vulnerable infant whose only defense was to cry.  The God who sees inside everyone’s heart committed himself to be an infant who couldn’t even see across the room.  The God who knows the ultimate best committed himself to be a sinless, obedient child of young, inexperienced, and sinful parents.

So what?

Through Christ coming as an infant, I see…

…God’s power to bring about his plan. Jesus survived all manner of hazards (high infant mortality rates, absentminded chickens(?), and King Herod) and accomplished his purpose on earth.

…Jesus trusting his Father. Can you picture the scene if Jesus didn’t trust God the Father?  “You want me to be a baby? in diapers? in a barn? in unsanitary conditions? to a teenage girl? to a poor family? What if she drops me on my head? What if the chickens peck at my eyes? What if…” Instead, Jesus was a healthy baby (despite high infant mortality rates and unsanitary conditions), survived to adulthood (escaping King Herod’s killing spree), and died at God’s allotted time and in God’s plan.  (Anyone else ready to celebrate Easter?)  

Glory to God! I marvel at the way you work, Lord.