How COULD He Have Come?

It rained today. A cold driving rain that, if damp and miserable, was nonetheless welcome because – for the first time this year – it has felt like Christmas may come to Southern California after all. Not that the lack of winter has prevented me from delighting in the commencement of the Holiday Season thus far. The radio in my car has been set to the all-Christmas-music stations since the day after Thanksgiving (I refused to listen when several stations started playing Christmas music before Thanksgiving—tradition should mean something!). And despite the sunshine and seventy-degree weather, my efforts to celebrate have not been in vain.

Song after song tells the strange story of Bethlehem. Over and over again, they ask why God would sleep in a manger? How could the Messiah be born – not in a palace — but in a stable? So many times I have asked myself what kind of foolishness would allow animals and shepherds to welcome the Incarnate Christ. The modern democrat in me always turned to the human answer – an answer I have heard expounded by Pastors and Philosophers. They say Jesus’ birth was humble to establish man’s equality before God. He came not as the Savior of aristocrats and royalty but as Savior of the World. There is, no doubt, much truth in the explanation.

But it is not the whole story.

Yesterday, on the way to school, I heard the song Strange Way to Save the World. Suddenly I was arrested by one line: “to think of how it could have been if Jesus had come as He deserved.” I did think of how it might have been. 

What if Immanuel was born in Solomon’s Palace with the Queen of Sheba bringing tribute? What if the babe’s first cry had echoed through the halls of Versailles and been celebrated with feasts and galas across Europe? What if he were showered with gifts and lulled to sleep by the music of orchestras and choirs?

We would have missed the point.

What tales men would tell about the lavish celebrations thrown to welcome the king! Musicians would tell their children and their children’s children how proud they were that they were selected to play first violin in the birth-day concert. Artisans would advertise that their cradle, carved of the finest cedar and overlaid in pure gold, had been the cradle of choice for the newborn Messiah. A cradle fit for a King. And from generation to generation we would retell how we gave the child the welcome he deserved.

But we’d be wrong.

All the splendor of every court in every nation could not be what he deserved.

A child’s Christmas song asks “what can I give him, poor as I am?” The wealthiest man in history could ask the same question. 

 What is all the pomp and circumstance in the world, but the dimmest reflection of his own glory? Of what value are all the gifts that could be given to one who legitimately owns them all? Is the stable really any more humble than the palace? Is the court any more worthy of God?

The true humility of the Christ is not in his surroundings, but in himself.

Marvel not at an infant lying in a manger, but at God living in an infant.

Stare in wonder as He who holds the nations in the palm of his hand needs his own heavy head supported in the palm of his mother. Rejoice with great joy as the Word through which all things were made struggles to learn the speech of man. Be still in awe as the Eternal Son explores his own creation with the wide-eyed wonder of childhood.

And begin to understand that the humble delight of shepherds is a more fitting tribute than the proud offering of kings. The backdrop of the stable is only a protection against the ignorant foolishness of thinking Earth could be worthy of Him. Through Bethlehem God glorified His Son by clarifying forever how very unworthy we are of such a gift.

The foolishness of God is wiser than man.

Merry Christmas