Author Archive for: meiling

The God of the universe was born into the poverty of a peasant and spent his first night in the cows’ feed trough. He left the glory of heaven and moved into our neighborhood. Who could have imagined he would do such a thing?

What a world he left. Our classiest mansion would be a tree trunk to him. God became a one-celled embryo and entered the womb of Mary. He became like us. Just look at the places he was willing to go: feed troughs, carpentry shops, badlands, and cemeteries. The places he went to reach us show how far he will go to touch us. He loves to be with the ones he loves.

It was an ordinary night with ordinary sheep and ordinary shepherds. Then the black sky exploded with brightness. Trees that had been shadows jumped into clarity. Sheep that had been silent became a chorus of curiosity. One minute the shepherd was dead asleep, the next he was rubbing his eyes and staring into the face of an angel! The night was ordinary no more. The angel came in the night because it’s when lights are best seen, and when they are most needed.

It all happened in a most remarkable moment—a moment like no other. God became a man. Divinity arrived. Heaven opened and place her most precious one in a human womb. God had come near.

In the mystery of Christmas, we find its majesty. The mystery of how God became flesh, why he chose to come at all, and how much he must love his people.

In Bethlehem, the human being who best understood who God was and what he was doing was a teenage girl in a smelly stable. As Mary looked into the face of the baby, she saw her son, her Lord, his majesty—she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knew she was holding God. So this is he she thought. She remembered the words of the angel: “His kingdom will never end.”

He looked like anything but a King. His cry, though strong and healthy, was still the helpless and piercing cry of a baby. Majesty in the midst of mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a stable, through the womb of a teenager, and in the presence of a carpenter. God came near. And as Luke 1:33 says, “His kingdom will never end.”

When Christ was born, so was our hope. This is why I love Christmas. The event invites us to believe the wildest of promises: He did away with every barrier, fence, sin, bent, debt, and grave. Anything that might keep us from him was demolished. He only awaits our word to walk through the door. Invite him in, escort him to the seat of honor, and pull out his chair. Clear the table; clear the calendar. Call the kids and neighbors. Christmas is here. Christ is here.

One request from you, and God will do again what he did then: scatter the night with everlasting light. He’ll be born in you. Let “Silent Night” be sung. Every heart can be a manger. Every day can be a Christmas. The Christmas miracle—a yearlong celebration!

Maybe your life resembles a Bethlehem stable. Crude in some spots, smelly in others. Not much glamour. You do your best to make the best of it. But try as you might, the roof still leaks, and the winter wind still sneaks through the holes you just can’t seem to fix. You’ve shivered through your share of cold nights and you wonder if God has a place for a person like you.

Find your answers in the Bethlehem stable. The story of Christmas is the story of God’s relentless love for us. The moment Mary touched God’s face is the moment God made his case: there is no place he will not go. No place is too common, no person is too hardened, no distance is too far. There is no person he cannot reach. There is no limit to his love.