The baby’s cries break the stillness of the night. His little fists flail as his mother unwraps him and changes the soiled strips of cloth for fresh swaddling bands. She pulls the infant closer and coos softly to quiet him. The rustle of hay in the stalls ... the lowing of cattle ... the pound of hooves in the dirt are the music of a lullaby. She strokes his velvet cheek. She smiles into his pinched, round face and marvels at his newborn perfection. “Beautiful boy,” she whispers.
This, her baby, is much like any other baby born into the world. He cries when he’s hungry; he shivers when he’s cold; he sooths at the sound of her voice and snuggles into her embrace. In time, he’ll learn to crawl. He’ll pull himself awkwardly to his feet and take his first steps. He’ll stumble and fall; she’ll wipe his tears and clean his scrapes. He’ll curl up on her lap as she teaches him the Scriptures. He’ll study math and practice shaping his letters. He’ll learn and grow like every other child.
But this baby’s not like any other baby. This baby, the child of a virgin girl and a surrogate father, is the Holy, sinless Son of Yahweh. This little one, born in poverty, is King: master and owner of the universe. These cries are the voice that spoke the world into existence. This helpless infant is the God who formed man out of the dust and breathed life into his lungs.
He is Emmanuel (God with us), stepped down from the adoration and splendour of Heaven into this world of evil and hate, sickness and sorrow. He’s taken on the form of the fallen ones, His created. One of us, living among us.
Sinless One, subjecting Himself to imperfect parents. Omniscient One, under instruction by fallible minds. The Omnipotent, restricted by hunger, fatigue, pains, mental and physical ends.
Deity wrapped in flesh. Spirit confined to a body. Eternal set in time. Holiness amidst depravity. Limitless bound by the laws of physics.
Still, He is El Shaddai (all Sufficient One), Adonai (the Lord), El Elyon (the God Most High), and the Great I Am.
He is born, not to be adored here in the manger, but to go to the cross. He’ll suffer the wrath of God that we deserve. He, the Lamb, the perfect sacrifice. Saviour. Redeemer.
All this, He chooses for a purpose decreed in eternity past: salvation, freely offered to all. Forgiveness, granted only to those who repent of their sin.
But the cross will not be the end. He will defeat the grave. Yeshua, the risen Lord. The Life. Victor over sin and conqueror of death. He will ascend into Heaven to sit at the right hand of His Father, alive evermore, El Olam (Everlasting God).
The Lion of Judah. The Judge, fierce and holy and righteous. One day, every knee will bow in reverence to Him. Praise and honour, glory and majesty forever. King of kings. Saviour God.
The Promised One is come ...
... Child like no other. Her beautiful boy.
© by Sandra Grace 2021
John 1:14. “And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
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Sandra Grace was born and raised near Moncton, New Brunswick. It was there she began her writing, tapping out stories for her children. She has published special editions of three of those stories.