A friend of mine, Sam Collins, writes a little column once in a while in
a publication called "Communion Together" that he calls
“Afterthoughts.” I love the way Sam thinks – in large part because he
is a bit off the wall most of the time!
He wrote this the other day…
“God
could have come to earth with the aura of a superhero. The powers of
the baby in swaddling clothes could have surpassed those of the guy in
the cape from Krypton. At the age of three, Jesus could have amazed his
parents by using one hand to lift a donkey and cart into midair.
During his ministry, he could have utilized X-ray vision to grill loaves
and fishes for the five thousand. The impenetrable palms of his hands
could have bent the cross spikes as though they were made of warm
Twizzlers.
But God refused to shield his body or his heart. He chose
to incarnate himself in fragile human flesh. He opted to open himself
to the full experience of the searing heat of hostility, the ache of
rejection, and the sting of death. He dared to show us what it really
costs to be made in his image. It requires a vulnerability we spend
most of our lives trying to run away from; it required a vulnerability
that God beckons us to the manger to behold and embrace.”
As I read
Sam’s words, I was caught up in the thought of the impact of Jesus being
born in a Manger. I have heard and even preached that the manger is a
symbol of God’s willingness to reach out to all people of all stations
of life – that even the first people to hear the good news, the
shepherds and the wise men – show us that Jesus came to reach out to all
people.
But this issue of Jesus modeling for us, for me, this idea
of the power of vulnerability kind of rocks my world. I do seem to
spend a lot of effort and time trying not to be left vulnerable. Trying
to appear strong and able and self-assured. The problem is that for
most of Christ’s ministry on earth, he chose to allow those who came
close to him to see his vulnerability – be it weeping over the tomb of a
friend or a lost city, or being scourged and hung on a cross, or coming
to earth as a helpless and vulnerable baby.
That really is the real meaning of Christmas I suspect. Thanks Sam for messing up my thinking!
