Under the circumstances, this birth was inconvenient. And it
came untimely. That it was accomplished obscurely--in a stall with livestock,
far from the gaze of their wedding party, the groom as midwife--was not
unwelcome to this meek little family. There would be gifts and admirers—even here.
And then, there would be sorrow: a narrow escape, an exile,
a repatriation, obscure labor. And there would be joy and wonder: God with
them!
Then, somehow, this Child would be alienated from His dear mother
and kind step-father. But not because He did not know--not because they hadn’t
told Him who His Father was. Consequently, they did not see him heal the
leprous ten. And they were absent when He raised a dead man. And they were offended
because He turned his own family away--in favor of His friends and Father.
Of course, there would be reconciliation. First, mother would
be reconciled to Son, and then, to His fate. In this, her God-given hopes—that He
would be heir to the throne of David--were dashed. When Rome hung him as a
criminal, as only a mother would, she came. With nails, they hung her carpenter’s
Son. As He bore a crown of thorns, she did too. As He hefted a cross, she did
too. His death was a defeat for her
and humanity. Or was it?
The story of the Gospel is a story of divine nobility in seeming
ignominy. It is the story of a Father’s sacrifice in Abraham and Jesus,
of Joseph—sold into slavery, of Isaiah—sawn asunder, of Jeremiah—cast into a
slimepit, of Daniel—a princeling resolute in captivity, of Stephen—stoned to
death, of Peter—crucified, of Paul—betrayed and beheaded. And that story
continues and will continue until the promises of God are fulfilled.
According to his promises, God will ”stain the pride of all
glory” and “bring into contempt all the honorable of the earth” as Isaiah averred
(Isaiah 23:9). Much that is high will be low. And much that is low will be high: God will “exalt them of low degree”.
