Holidays

---

I imagine Jesus was temporarily blinded, as all newborns are, when his new eyes were overwhelmed for the first time by the light he created.

I imagine as cold, hunger, and being touched all newly assailed Jesus’ nerves, the voices of his parents were a tether to faith.

I imagine Jesus considered me when he first experienced wanting to quit and give up his difficult task and persevered for my sake.

I imagine Jesus wept deeply as he stroked Joseph’s cheek and held his hand for the last time, because knowledge was never meant to dispel grief.

I imagine when John recognized him at the river, Jesus’ eyes met his, and both of them, joyfully and with awe, could feel the significance of what was about to take place.

I imagine the nature and duration of Jesus’ testing in the desert by the tempter stretched beyond the limits of what his human thoughts had expected.

I imagine Jesus internally (or perhaps, outwardly) leapt with joy upon meeting Simon, his first intimate human friend and brother-to-be.

I imagine, while Jesus deeply desired his cup removed from his hand in the garden, he knew it was his cup, and more deeply desired to drink it.

I imagine Jesus felt a certain relief on the cross, for the cycle of his body’s death had begun; but he did not embrace the relief, because there was still a little work, a few last pushes through the agony before setting his tools on the bench, blowing away the chips and pronouncing my heart’s redemption finished.

As I prepared for Jesus this past Advent and Christmas, I found myself considering the fragile anticipation of the Jews, the breathless awe of Joseph and Mary, and the millions of pleading prayers and fading hopes of multiple generations being answered in one infant’s cry.

And I’m now considering how faithful the Father must be to have followed through with his plan to rescue me in light of so much sin, so much hatred.

I’m considering if I had been one of those in the vicinity of Jesus' birth, would I have: recognized the significance of the new bright star; listened – past the terror and exposing presence of the angelic host – to the announcement of pure joy; invited this strange, rather unkempt, expecting couple into my home?

I hope I would have done all those things, but I’m just not sure. Yet, in that uncertainty, amidst that strange blend of hopeful doubt, I imagine Jesus still smiles, reaches out and caresses my chin gently with soft, newborn fingers, and my fears abruptly come to nothing, drowned by the pure light of what he has chosen. The only one who can justly condemn my sin has tenderly touched me instead.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE