The Incarnation
A gossamer veil between this world and the next, division of temporal and eternal seen and unseen . . .
Pierced.
Light of the world sent by God, broke through, came to us.
Emptied ... became microscopic, past the curtain to our side entered the chosen cell.
From that other world— more real, substantive than eye can see where angels dwell, battle, worship, do Your every bidding shining with the light of Your glory—
He came!
On this side of the veil women know birth the pain, agony, utter humiliation. Did Mary fear for her life, expect her own death as she pushed the eternal Son of God, Son of the Most High through her birth canal bleeding forth new life?
Was she utterly depleted as she watched Joseph place You in a stone feeding trough and heard His first cry?
Did You know, Jesus, as You felt cold hard stone beneath Your tiny back, that this infant bed of God-created rock was a prelude to the stone slab that would bed Your broken body in final rest?
O Jesus, how majestic is Your name. The miracles and wonders of Your Advent entrance will be discovered over and over with marvel as we ponder, meditate, listen, Revelation will not end.
Help us, in this thoroughly secularized era, return to revel ... exuberance ... true worship at Christmas. You showed the way, went against the norms of Your day. Your gospel countercultural.
May we who know rebirth reclaim for Your sake sacred honor-driven attention on the annual adoration of Your advent.
And may You be our focus and prize at Your birthday and all year long.
Amen.