There is a place where the nonsensical becomes the most rational. Where the extraordinary becomes the obvious and expected. Where the simplest of ways births the most extravagant of wonders.
As baffling as it may appear, sometimes the incorrect is just plain right. Even when it all seems so very wrong.
Thus is the Advent season… this paradox of both arrival and completion. The conception of a Savior bent on rescuing a world at odds with its Creator. Announcing His arrival with the words “It is finished” already formed on infant lips.
From the stable, to the cross, to the empty grave…
Each step purposeful, blazing pathways of redemption through souls.
Each touch heavy with the weight of holy and free.
Each breath, from first newborn cry to last earthly gasp, declaring love unconditional for the enemies of the Divine.
Every word spoken with intention.
Every action proclaiming an undying devotion.
Every moment a continual reminder of Immanuel.
God with us. Embracing the world with infinite love through puzzling means…
An unwed teenager chosen as the perfect earthly mother for an otherworldly Lord.
A lowly stable providing shelter for the King of kings.
A Nazarene carpenter transforming the lives of lepers and blind beggars and common laborers and hated tax collectors and prostitutes.
A Messiah come with light and love to a world set on resisting the very One it has longed to welcome.
A Friend of sinners betrayed by a comrade in order to fulfill the most holy of Covenants.
Oh, the wonder of such paradoxical designs as Calvary’s cross screams the Savior’s presence in the most absurd of ways. Sin drained from mankind by its absorption through innocent veins. Redemption completed by the death grip of iron in nail-pierced hands. Restoration intact through the ripping of temple veil, granting entrance for one and all.
The unworthy deemed valuable, summoned to partake in all that is sacred and hallowed.
The harlot made pure.
The shattered and broken raised with honor through the working of Calvary’s reparations.
This paradox of love remains as steady as ocean tide, beckoning me to come wade knee-deep in Advent’s waves.
Waiting with open hands and willing heart to receive the unexpected in divinely appointed ways.
So be still, anxious heart.
Hush the worry.
Quiet the weary of too much and too fast.
Slow down to ponder the wonder of sacred arrival.
For He has come and will continue to come to this wayward world.
Here in the mangers of human hearts, may He find a welcome resting place.