Yesterday evening, I had the privilege of holding a baby who was only two weeks old. The tiny boy was only seven pounds and a few ounces. Carefully, he was handed to me. Asleep and totally, completely helpless, he lay in my arms. I rarely looked up from his beautiful face. His eyes were closed peacefully. He had a little scratch on his nose from his nails that needed to be cut. His lips, so small, were absolutely perfect. A miniature Santa hat covered his dark, black hair. It had probably been years since I’d held a baby this young. His beauty left me awestruck.
As I let myself become captivated by him, my mind thought of my King. My Lord. The God of the universe. His Son, filled with power and might, set it all aside and humbled Himself so that He could come into the world just like the rest of us. He trusted us enough to lay down His crown and put on our humanity and come to this earth as a baby. A tiny baby, helpless and completely reliant on those around Him. Too young to form words or even real thoughts. Too young, too weak to even lift His head on His own. This is our King.
Pregnancy. Birth. In themselves, they are miracles. But when you think about the fact that God came down to be one of us in that way? It’s mind blowing. A tiny little thing.. A head that fits in your palm. A hand that can’t even completely wrap around your finger. A body the length of your forearm. This is how the King of the world chose to present Himself to us. This is our Lord, willing to be born among us. Willing to put our life in His hands. Willing to be raised on this earth. Willing to take the first trying steps in learning to walk just as we did. Willing to befriend us. And ultimately, willing to die on our behalf.
This is our King. This is Love.
This is Christmas.