Emmanuel...God with ME

Emmanuel.

God is with us.

Mary rode for hours on the back of a stinkin’ donkey.  When they FINALLY arrived at Bethlehem her disappointment was palpable as Joseph went from lodging to lodging, hoping to find a place for them.  She was getting impatient:  the load she was carrying was too much for all this travel.  A modern day doctor would have advised against it. 

When they arrived at the final option, both of them held their breath:  “no room.  No room, I’m sorry. 

But I DO have a space.  It’s far from perfect.  But you can get off that donkey and settle in.”

Mary, with feet so swollen they hurt (and itched!) finally dismounted that cursed donkey.  I mean, nothing against donkeys, but SERIOUSLY.  Over a week on that stubborn, fuzzy, smelly beast was absolutely too much. TOO much!

With relief she dismounted and walked around the stable…legs still formed around the donkey, Braxton Hicks riding hard along about now. And, lo, she WAS afraid.  What was actually going on inside her young body?  She felt the baby doing cartwheels inside, felt the little one with hiccups, felt when he was finally sleeping.  The angel had already told her she was having a son…long before the world’s first ultra-sound.  But Emmanuel?  She was supposed to name him Emmanuel?

After hours of fearful labor and pushing, no hand-maidens to assist, no doula, no Pitocin, just a terrified fiancé who had never been intimate in those regions, let alone even SEEN them before, offering timid assistance as the baby began to crown.

And then. 

The baby’s first breath inhaled....That same breath He, as God, had breathed into Adam's lifeless body at creation, now being breathed into his own fleshly body...jump starting the blood coursing through his tiny veins.  His robust cry pierced the air and he struggled to find comfort and sustenance at the breast of his young mother.

As Mary held her baby close, her Jesus-child, tears slowly coursed down her cheeks.  He was so perfect, his ten little fingers, ten little toes.  His sweet rosebud mouth feeding so fervently, tiny nostrils breathing in air as his mouth busily drank his mother’s milk.

Had Mary known what the future held for her baby, would she have mourned his very birth?  Would she have cried as he ate?  Did she have an iota of an idea of what was to become of her son, Jesus?

What if she had known that his first breath, that same breath which The One had breathed into Adam oh so many centuries before, would become the Breath of Heaven?  The Breath of Life? That same breath which would utter “It. Is. Finished.” And then breathe His last breath.

What if she knew that the blood which coursed through his tiny veins, the blood which brought color to his little cheeks and removed the purple hue from his fingertips as the blood coursed strong… would one day spill….onto a parched ground for the final forgiveness of wrongs done?

Did she realize that his sweet, lily-white and unblemished baby skin would be scarred under a crown of relentless thorns, rent under the sharp angles of iron piercing flesh?  Torn as a cross was dropped into a pit, and a sword pierced his side.

Could she understand the horrors that awaited her sweet baby Jesus…Emmanuel?  That His actual Heavenly Father, none other than God Himself, would eventually turn His back as this baby-now-man took on the sins of the world for the Ultimate Forgiveness of Sin, covered with a black too much for the Father to even take in, having to turn His back and force darkness upon the earth. 

And yet.

This child born today…God With Us…would provide us the privilege of Us With God at the ultimate conclusion of life.  God With Us…Us With God.  How is it possible?

Was the baby so innocent from Heaven aware of the sacrifice He had already made?

As Mary held him, and His little eyes peeped open, squinting as the Light Of Life filtered into his tiny baby eyes, did she grasp the horrors that awaited her child?  Did she even comprehend the unconditional love her son would offer once grown and feeding throngs of hungry people?  When He freed people of their sickness or the demons that haunted, could Mary comprehend His unfailing, unending love?

Can I?

Isn’t it too much to take in that God Incarnate would take on flesh, blood, and the form of a mere, helpless baby to be for me God With Me.

For you, God With You.

For the world, God With Us.

Emmanuel.

It’s too much.  Just TOO much.