Jesus broke into time with a Baby’s cry--nothing profound, but He was all Profundity. The little swaddled Boy had no words for us, but He was all Word. He had to struggle through the pains of Birth like any baby, but His pain would always hold all of our pain.

His family appeared to be the two caring for Him at His manger-side, but His real Dad was the Heavenly Father, and His real family is all of us who love Him. His tidings are always Good News, and never the negative and evil news that the world releases unceasingly. His Baby-cooings were the first Holy Spirit breathed prayer--at places too deep for words. His Stepdad was His midwife. His Mother was informed of a cosmic mystery that she couldn’t speak of, but she would ponder for the rest of her life.

That cold lonely night brought our gift of never again needing to be alone. The angels that hovered over His Birth gave their first message to the most alone and separate in all of Bethlehem’s society. The shepherds, because they would actually be full of the wonder from a hillside and the silence of a closely starred night sky would be able to see and hear the angels. The donkey and the cattle at the Baby’s manger-crib knew somehow that the whole groaning creation had an added note of praise that night. The people who turned away the helpless pregnant couple on a donkey, so that the Baby would have to be born in a cave-like barn, were fulfilling prophecy spoken so long ago about a Messiah would enter our lives in this poor and humble way.

The common swaddling clothes that Jesus wore were the gossamer for a King, in eternity’s evaluation. The shepherds, with obedient and humbled hearts, who went to see the Baby led their lambs to the place of The Lamb. The cold winds across the land were the notation for every melodic chorus in our Christmas Carols. The dismal cave was the longing of the heart of every architect who ever hoped to design the palace of a monarch. The Mother’s labor cries were the lullaby calming the People of God that their hopes and prayers were finally met in her trusting push of this Baby into the life of our incalculable gift.

Was the Baby Himself--the promised Redeemer--given in this way as a note of touching sentimentality to the whole story of the Savior Who would grow-up in such rejection to die on the Cross for the sins of the whole world?

Oh, No! The coming of this Baby from His eternal place as the Son, always with His Heavenly Father, is a movement of such grandeur that it moves the heart over such a travail of love. For Him to stoop to the place of earthly parents with breastfeeding for nurturance and diapers to be changed is unimaginable in the reach of the Lord’s love to find and save us. This Baby drank the milk of flesh to give us the meat of His Word. This Child, known forever as The Word, came crying unintelligible baby-tears. His wail came tearing into time, and the Little-One had to learn the language of His family in the same ways of all the children. The Word Incarnate drooled Baby-talk for us!

The Christmas Child, who could have had legions of angels at His disposal at any time, came as any other child--entirely helpless, accept for His ability to cry and smile--the only things that can ensure the survival of the Dear-Ones to bring help to their sides. By these wordless calls the infants bring those who love them to care for them. Jesus came without any resources. He was utterly helpless, except for His need for us to care for Him. What god, but the Only One, who fully wanted to identify with us would be willing to suffer the humility of this Baby—who was indeed, God With us, Emmanuel?

The Son, free through all of heaven, had freely chosen to come to earth to be bound by our human cloths. From a swaddled Baby to His death-cloths He would be wrapped-up in all of our ways, so that in another cave--His tomb--He could leave behind the grave clothes finally as evidence of the possibility of our Resurrection in Him, if we just embrace the One who came helpless—the One Who is our complete Helper.

The Jesus Child came as a Baby in the deepest part of the night along a forgotten rocky lane, in a barn barely fit to house the animals. His life, from such dark beginnings, brings Light always--even in the places of dense darkness and evil. If you look richly into the Face of Jesus there is no end to the transforming life He will bring to you: cries for carols, baby-talk for the Word, pain for embraces, loneliness for abiding love, shepherds before royalty, caves for castles, a poor Baby as King, common clothes for regal robes, milk for meat, labor shouts for redemption, the helpless as The Helper, death cloths for Resurrection, brief lives for eternity, deep night for the Light of men. As we are told in the Gospel of John 1:4~~”In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.”

In the image attached, a beautiful Christmas card from DaySpring Press, we can see the Holy Infant in His manger. I have placed it with a gift that we received of a seashell bearing the calligraphy of the Lord’s Prayer. Jesus always wanted us to know how to speak readily to His Daddy. He knew how important the words were to us. He had learned the language of man. And so, He gave us prayer long after He left His manger origins so that we would have the kind of prayer that he always spoke to His Father from a hillside under the close-by stars over His lovely head. If you will pray it you will know Emmanuel’s heart to give us dear entrée with His Father! Glory on a bright Christmas night!