Before I gave birth, while I knew it would be painful and messy, I also imagined it as this sacred and awe-filled experience. As if heaven would part and I’d be carried by this swell of emotion and love and wonder. You always hear people saying that “it’s the best day of their lives” when their child was born, and so I imagined it as this transcendent moment to look forward to.
And it was, for the most part, many of those things, but it was also incredibly… ordinary.
And absolutely and unequivocally human.
In fact, I have never felt more human and more connected to my very skin than when I was gripping the hand of my husband and grasping for every breath as I pushed my daughter out. I realized that the wonder of a child being born is precisely because of how human and universal it is. It is both ordinary and sacred.
Going through childbirth firsthand has ushered in a new understanding of the Christmas story. It has invited me to reflect not just on the wonder of Jesus’ birth, but truly on the humanity, the mess and the goop of our savior’s birth. I imagine Mary as she labored in transit. As she clutched her stomach each time a wave of labor pain seared through her body. Her heavy breath as she pushed and pressed. What did our young virgin teen Mary say to herself as she tore and trembled to bring this strange and enigmatic miracle into the world? What did it sound like when Jesus let out his first cries?
The first chapter of the Gospel of John says it so beautifully: “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes…”
While I know that Jesus is God, I often forget that he was fully human. I tend to imagine him to be some kind of “elevated” human.
But he was a man.
Enfleshed.
He had scars before he went to the cross from learning how to walk and how to run.
Pastor Isaac said this so poignantly in his sermon, “Someone who was cosmic and otherworldly and beyond our understanding translates himself into our context—he moves into our world with skin and bones and flesh and blood and enters into our story.”
What does it say about our God who would enter into the world through the vulnerability and clumsiness of humanity? Our Savior who willingly entered into our mess—yes, to die, but also to live a full life of faithfulness, obedience and love for us. To show us the way of being truly human.
This season, as we sing carols and remember the arrival of our Savior celebrated on Christmas day, may we remember what it means when we say, Emmanuel—”God with us.”
God-Among-Us,
We recognize your Presence here.
Thank you for reminding us
That you are not distant or far away
But that even now
Your voice is speaking more clearly than ever.
In Jesus’ name we pray,
Amen.
Meditate on John 1 this week. What does it mean for God to be with us in the every day, every moment of our ordinary, yet sacred life?
What moments in your life feel ordinary, boring, even frustrating? Ask the Lord to reveal to you where He is present in those moments, and offer him thanks when he does.
Heidi Kwon is the Liturgist at EKKO Church, where she imagines and creates language for members to pray, listen, and be shaped by prayer and Scripture. She and her husband, Daniel, recently welcomed their daughter Maya.
The artwork used today was from Scott The Painter. Used with permission.