by Kim Jones
Isaiah 55:9 My heart always rejoices when I slow down long enough during the hectic holiday season to be reminded that God loves me so much that He clothed Himself in frail, human flesh to accomplish a cosmic rescue mission that borders on the unbelievable. In those quiet moments, my mind often wanders back 2,000 years ago to the place and time where the Creator of the universe became like one of His creations. The God who exists outside the confines of time and space, entered time and space. The God who is all-powerful and all knowing, became a helpless infant. The God whose breathe gives life to all men, placed Himself in the care of a teenage couple who couldn't find, much less afford decent lodging. God certainly doesn't operate like we do. If the birth of His Son was the rescue mission of mankind, it surely didn't look like one. But then again, God's ways, His methods, often seem to defy human logic. I wonder how many dinner discussions in Bethlehem that night centered around the gall of Rome to order a census. How many people must have thought in their minds, "When is God going to show up and rescue us from this oppression?" Did many of the local citizens go to bed angry, maybe even skipping prayer since by all appearances God didn't seem to be answering them anyway? I wonder how many townsfolk secretly thought of God that night as distant since He hadn't done much lately to improve the quality of life for His chosen people. I've imagined myself in Bethlehem on that starry night. I'd like to think that I would be spiritually in tune enough to sense that God really was working on behalf of His people, despite the census. I'd like to think that I wouldn't question God's authority over the affairs of men, despite Herod's decree. I'd like to think that I would discern that a miracle was taking place just outside of town and that I would be obedient enough to go looking for it. I'd like to think that I wouldn't miss what God was doing, but I know better. Why? Because I so often miss what He's doing right here and now. Where I see pain, God sees the birth pangs of holiness. Where I see injustice, God sees eternal rewards. Where I see weakness, God sees an opportunity to impart His strength. Where I see defeat, God sees surrender. Where I see a baby in a manger, God sees a King on a rescue mission. I may not understand His ways, but I can never question the heart of a God who is willing to go from a King in heaven - to a baby in a manger - to a criminal on a cross - all for me.
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