Monday, September 3, 2018

Luke 2:7

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

How it happens

We live in a society where individualism runs amok. Everyone and anyone, it seems, can be a star on social media, getting thousands or millions of digital ‘hits,’ which, of course, makes them more significant (at least in their own mind) than those with less … or none.

It is important to stand out, be recognized and ‘followed’ more than others. If this sounds narcissistic, well, it is … very. It is all about me, and there is a lot of that going around today.

But our story, the story of Love’s Incarnation, is entirely contrary to the mood of the day.

The Loving Mystery puts on a human face that we may see and know and be transformed into the beauty that God awakens in us. How does it happen?

Quietly, out in a barn, where no one is watching, where no extra hands are available to help with the birth, where two people, exhausted from their journey must do the best they can … alone, strangers in a town where no one knows their name.

There is no one else present to see the birth of wonder. Immanuel, the Holy One, the Love Beyond All Telling appears here, not on Facebook or YouTube or in a place where at least a few important people might notice.

The child is wrapped in bands of cloth, common adornment of the poor and insignificant.

If there were no other reason for me to be Christian, no other reason for me to fall in love with the God it reveres, this story is enough. For it tells me there is no place God will not go, nowhere God refuses to appear, no corner of life that is left out or forgotten in the divine heart.

It tells me I need go nowhere but exactly where I am to know … truly know … the Love who puts on flesh and seeks me. And it challenges me to embrace my own imperfect life, so small in the great scope of the world and history, as an embodiment of the Loving Mystery who is pleased to dwell in my flesh, my mortal being.

The miracle happens in ordinary human lives, like ours. Exactly where we are. Today.

Pr. David L. Miller