12/22/2007

Christmas.

We celebrate, but did God the Father? 2,007 years ago, did God cheer on Christmas Day? Or did He shudder? Did He weep for His child? Did He weep over fallen humanity? Did the God who is not bound by time see Calvary on Christmas Day? Years ago I wrote a song. The chorus said:

When you look down on my Christmas tree
Do you picture Your Son on Calvary?
Because Christmas is not about evergreens-
it is Your gift to me.
When You see the twinkle in my eyes
Does it remind you of the tears that Jesus cried
When you told him it was Your plan that He should die
To save the likes of mankind...
For sinners such as I.

I bet Abraham might understand, in part, what God the Father felt on Christmas morning. It must have been similar to the feelings Abraham felt holding onto Isaac's hand and walking up a path toward an altar of greatest sacrifice. Nausea rising in his stomach. His head spinning. Grief. "It needs to be done...one foot in front of the other...Why?....Oh, God, I love You, but why my son?"

Yet, even Abraham could not understand. Because for God there was no higher authority ordering His steps. There was no obligation to the world which would force Him to send His son on the long road toward Calvary. Surely God was keenly aware that His Son was being sacrificed for people like Rachel Jones. People who would laugh at Him. People who would question Him. People who would make Him look bad. People who would be fickle. People who would care more about Christmas than Calvary. People who would not, could not, understand the cost. People who would outright reject Him, and people who would undeservedly come to Him. People who would touch the em of His robe. People who would wash His feet with their hair. People who would slay giants in His name. People who would climb a tree to catch a glimpse of Him. People who would step out onto the water to follow Him. People who He loved.

And I can't figure out why. Can you? Why we are so valuable that God would even bother to check up on us--let alone know our name, or the hairs on our head.

I'm trying to wrap my mind around the indescribable joy that Christmas casts over a fallen humanity, and the unimaginable journey that began on Christmas morning for a newborn God-child. Christmas is the start of a death march. But, Christmas is the start of redemption.

"Who is man that You are mindful of us?"

God, let my children see You as you are: gracious and glorious. Let their Mom see You that way, too.