Incarnation
Advent #3 Dec 11, 2011
Blackness. Deep, inky, heavy, darkness. The kind that presses in from all sides, crushing, chaotic and formless, and yet powerful. It is not eyes-shut blackness – it is eyes wide open blackness, pupils straining to dilate further, desperate for the smallest flicker of light, yet finding nothing. It lasts for an eternity, yet also a moment.
And then
God wills. Lightning cracks, time begins. And in the corner, finally, a soft light penetrates. The blackness runs back, the light draws near.
And then
Creation explodes – creativity, delight, abundance. Not one planet around one sun, but galaxy upon galaxy upon galaxy. Not one flower, but hundreds of thousands. Not one creature, but millions, many never to be seen nor understood by human eye, which is fine because they were not created for humanity but rather for God. All spoken into existence with a word, followed by a shout of joy.
And in the beginning was the Word. The Word spoke, and matter danced into being, danced with praise, danced around the Word, to His delight. Stars, gases, nebulae. To the end of eternity and back again. And they danced to the delight of the Maker. The Word spoke again, it happened again. Oceans filled with life. Strange, unexpected, harmonious; and the waves and the creatures danced. The Word spoke again. And again. And again.
And, it was good.
And then
The creator stepped down onto the dirt He had created. The Word knelt in the soil. Fingers grasped earth, wedging beneath fingernails, filling lines in the palms of the hands. And the Artist formed the dirt. Adding, pushing, stretching, pulling, molding, sculpting. With care and detail, the Word formed a new creature. He shapes feet and legs, kidneys and stomach, armpits and shoulders, a head, a brain, ears and eyes and mouth. And a nose. As the shape finishes, He bends closer, His mouth opens around the nostrils and then seals. And the Word, the Breath, breathes into those nostrils.
And then
The lighting cracks again, synapses fire for the first time ever, a heart starts to beat, blood begins to flow and the Breath of life fills every cell in every corner. Eyes bolt open, limbs convulse, energy flows, and a shout of joy escapes from the mouth. This new creation leaps to his feet, and starts to join the dance, and God now has a dancing partner.
And dance they do.
And, it was good. It was very good.
But then
This new companion turned against the light. He turned to darkness. He questioned the light, wanted to be the source, succumbed to the illusion of control and power beyond himself. He ran from the Light, hid from the light, shut his eyes against the light, believing that the darkness would somehow lead to something else—something better—something controllable. He left the partner standing on the dance floor, spurned, rejected, and hurt.
But the Light pursued. He came walking in the garden. He called. Excuses, blame, sorrow, rejection.
And promise: He will strike your head, and you will strike his heal.
And then
Years pass. Centuries. God woos, draws, blesses, loves. And humanity in turn comes, withdraws, accepts, rejects, wanders, returns. Seeks the Light, then runs to the darkness. Emerges, then runs away again. Takes a marriage vow, then mucks with adultery.
And then
When the time had fully come. The Light – the Word – the Power at the soul of all creation – the spark that set the universe first alight – He who existed before time itself – He through whom everything was created that has been created:
shrank
took off
set aside
emptied
left
became nothing.
A teenage girl with a pure heart. She gives her womb. And she is indwelt. She receives with humility, acceptance, submission. Then she receives scorn, rejection, blame, and shame.
And then
The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace – the one through whom God created everything – is now Himself created.
A fertilized egg, about 0.135mm in diameter, weighing about 150mg, begins the process of cell division, and the journey of life begins. The God of the universe enters Mary’s uterus, attaches, and the cells begin to divide.
Week 5 – God now the size of a pin head begins to receive oxygen and nutrition through the placenta.
Week 6 – God’s heart starts to beat, his brain divides into 5 parts.
Week 7 – God’s arms and legs start to form, as does lower jaw, vocal cords, inner ear; along with lungs and liver and pancreas and thyroid.
Week 8 – God starts to practice moving; nostrils, mouth, and teeth begin to develop.
Week 9 – God is now about 1.2 inches in length, continuing to grow.
Week 11 – God’s taste buds begin to form, he can swallow and stick out his tongue. Cartilage is calcifying to become bone.
Week 12 – God gets fingernails and toenails. Sometimes he gets hiccups.
Week 14 – God starts to grow hair, and produce urine.
Week 16 – God begins to grow fat underneath his skin; he can hear external voices; he can sleep and dream.
Week 20 – God is halfway through the pregnancy.
Week 24 – God practices breathing by inhaling amniotic fluid into developing lungs. He sucks his thumb. Facial expressions indicate distaste if mom drinks something strange or bitter.
Week 26 – God’s eyes begin to open.
Week 30 – God regulates his own body temperature
Week 34 – God’s organs are largely complete; he opens his eyes when awake and closes them for sleep.
Week 38 – God’s development is complete, and ready for birth.
And so
The Word that gave life to everything that was created took on flesh.
6 Though he was God,
he did not think of equality with God
as something to cling to.
7 Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
he took the humble position of a slave
and was born as a human being.
After centuries of back and forth with His chosen people, the Almighty God is enfleshed and delivered in a cold, dirty barn. What calloused innkeeper would turn away any woman about to give birth? What selfish travelers would not make room in their own space, or even give it up entirely, so that a young woman and her husband might bring a new life into the world?
God enters quietly. A new-born cry; umbilical cord cut, the infant cleaned and warmed and laid on his mother’s chest. Almost un-noticed.
Except that
the heaven’s cannot keep silent – the angels erupt, the news is too incredible, too unbelievable, it must be proclaimed, it must be trumpeted, it must be shouted from the mountain top. So the Father allows the announcement; but to whom? To the rich? The pious? The clean? In the courts of the powerful? The houses of the faithful?
No. The news is proclaimed to the lowliest. The cold, dirty, thieving shepherds. The rough men shivering on a hillside; groggy, hard, weather-beaten. Yes, the last shall be first – and this is only the beginning. The angel multitude – the vast army of heaven – sets the skies ablaze. This is no pious choir of slight, white clad women with long blond hair and golden halo’s singing gentle melodies in the night. This is the vast host, the armies of heaven, the sight of whom strikes terror in the hearts of men well acquainted with harshness and violence; and they are shouting praises to God in highest heaven.
These shepherds hurry to Bethlehem. No stopping for clean clothes or a wash; no attempt to whitewash an exterior and pretend to be worthy. They hurry, and they find a feeding trough with an infant, wrapped snugly in strips of cloth.
What of this teenage girl, and her husband who knew without doubt that he had not fathered this child? Their inadequate, temporary lodgings barged into by dirty shepherds; did Joseph not jump to the doorway to bar them entry, fearing robbery or at least crowding, protective of his vulnerable wife and the newborn child for whom he is responsible? Did he not step in the way, and demand to know what brought them here as they yelled to one another – it is here!! Over here!! In here!!! This is the stable!!!!
The Savior, yes, the Messiah, the Lord – born today in Bethlehem, the city of David; wrapped snugly in strips of cloth, lying in a manger.
Just as the angel had said.
And then.
What happened the next day? And the day after that?? Surely, now that God has been born on earth, everything will change; everything will be different – Messiah has come!
No, not exactly. A story circulates, people are astonished, at least for as long as that sort of thing lasts. Some even come to see, and ask questions, but what do they see? A mother caring for her infant. A father caring for his wife and child. No glowing face, no adult wisdom, no power flowing from the infant with sparks and flashes.
God has arrived, and life goes on as normal. Food must be found, prepared, consumed. Mary breast feeds the God of the universe. Then changes his diaper. There is great joy, like there always is at the time of birth. And life goes on as normal.
God, an infant. Giggles and smiles. Grasps the curls of his mother’s hair. Clings tightly to his father’s fingers. Cries when hungry, cold, scared, or dirty. Eyelids flutter, wanting to hold back sleep but finally succumbing. God, needing a hand to support his neck; the Word who spoke creation into existence now reduced to cooing, laughing, and crying; delighted to rely on a human mother and father for every need.
The Word, become flesh.
This is the incarnation.
This is Emmanuel, God with us.
This is God’s plan to mend the rift, to span the gulf, to invite the dancer to rejoin the dance and restore that which was lost.
So now
Now what? Back to trees, lights, packed malls, chaos, Christmas cheer a drink with egg and cream and bourbon and vanilla? Back to packages and feasts?
Or might we come back. The stable is not decorated. No fanfare and pageantry. No processions and regal adornments.
Just a mother, father, and an infant.
But
This infant is the God of the universe. King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The Saviour. Messiah. The Word. Wrapped in the smooth olive skin of a Jewish child, laying on some straw in an animal’s feeding trough.
I don’t understand it. I don’t have to. I’m not asked to be in control, to master the concepts, to explain them to the philosophers and wise ones and powerful. I’m asked to come and kneel. To proclaim my allegiance to an infant. To put my life, my eternity, in tiny infant hands. To step out of my darkness and allow this light to shine on me. Knowing the light is not always a gentle warm glow, but often a searing spotlight piercing into the dark places I’d rather keep hidden and secret, bringing those into the light so that they might wither and die. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. The light shines in my darkness. And in yours.
So now
What is asked of we who bend the knee before the manger? May I suggest one thing only: we marvel at the mystery, allowing the story to shine upon us so brightly that its glow radiates around us and we see how far superior is our grand story to that of our culture, where the story is about consumerism and materialism buried under a see-through cloth labeled love and giving. That we marvel at the mystery and are so compelled that we ask of those around us, what does Christmas mean for you and yours?, and we listen with grace and humor and delight, hoping that as we listen and embrace others we will earn the opportunity to share the story we have come to experience, and at which we marvel.
The story that tells us
1 In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
2 He existed in the beginning with God.
3 God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.
4 The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.
5 The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.
6 God sent a man, John the Baptist, 7 to tell about the light so that everyone might believe because of his testimony. 8 John himself was not the light; he was simply a witness to tell about the light. 9 The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.
10 He came into the very world he created, but the world didn’t recognize him. 11 He came to his own people, and even they rejected him. 12 But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God. 13 They are reborn—not with a physical birth resulting from human passion or plan, but a birth that comes from God.
14 So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son.
