The very first thing God handed us to hold was the Ten Commandments (actually twice). They were bold and strong and true, but they were written in stone, and they didn’t change us. Our hearts were just as hard.

At Christmas, God decided to hand us something else. It was bold and strong and true, but it was made of flesh. It wasn’t words written down in granite, but it was “the Word” with a beating heart. And this time this gift could change us.

Does this passage, on some level, refer to Mary and Joseph? Proverbs explains well the type of son which would bring pride and joy to parents. And those of Jesus could certainly rejoice as what their son would become.

Joseph did not just have a son who would choose the right way to go, but one who would call himself the way.

Mary did not just have a son who would follow the truth, but one who would call himself the truth.

Joseph and Mary did not give just hold a baby newly alive, but one who would call himself the life.

All of that, wrapped up in a bundle which we could hold in our hands. Rejoice.

Mary is this woman of Revelation.

In those moments, did she sense that she was wearing the sun? Did she know she was walking upon moonlight? Did she notice the stars tangled up in her hair?

Did she sense – and do we sense – that our moments of humility are adorned? Did she sense – and do we sense – that our steps of obedience are swirled across the skies?

At Christmas, God came in the tenderness of a cuddly baby. But he also came in the tenderness of the bond between a husband and wife.

Mary made a difficult journey to Bethlehem while she was pregnant. Did she have to? Couldn’t she have just stayed with relatives? Instead, she submitted and accompanied Joseph in his national duty. Perhaps she just wanted to be with him.

Joseph made a difficult journey through the gaze of people, with a wife carrying a baby not his. Did he have to? Couldn’t he have abandoned her, or had her stoned? Instead, he packed her up as tightly as anything he possessed. Perhaps he just wanted to be with her.

God made the journey to us by using the story of a couple. Did he have to? Couldn’t he have come to earth as a loner, and just bounded over a hill one day? Instead, he swung in the arms of humanity’s most holy union.

* Note: Col 1:15 and Col 2:9 have direct and profound descriptions of the incarnation of Christ, and thus tie it with the Christmas birth.

The moment and miracle of Christmas is that God did not grasp, but let go.

The Son of God let go of his divinity. He let go of his position. He let go of the way things had always been. He let go of control – that moment when his tiny, uncurled fingers reached out for our hand.

But the shepherds also let go – they let go of their fear. The wisemen let go of the place they had always been. Joseph let go of his respectable status. Mary let go the future.

Our miracle, also, is when we let go.

“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household.” – Eph 2:19

Jesus was born of the Jewish line, but that may not be true of all his first visitors. The wisemen, in particular, came from the east, as foreigners, and aliens, and certainly as strangers. Imagine letting complete and unannounced strangers attend your delivery and hold your newborn son. But that’s how it happened.

One of the messages of the first Christmas is this: even though we don’t belong, if we journey through the long dark night, the door will be opened. If we leave behind our distant lands and seek the Christ, it will be as if we always belonged.

God kept his promise with a family tree. He gave his gift as a necklace of sons begetting sons.

As is so often the case, God’s answer to a prayer comes on a time scale bigger than one human lifetime. It comes as a story woven with a connected cast which will never meet. It is beyond imagination, and human reckoning, and ways that can be counted or understood.

Because, sometimes, that’s how promises are kept.

The time had to be right. Like reaping a garden from the long, hard soil laid out by the law. Like viewing the sunset after hours of blistering sun. Like a woman holding a baby boy after the painful labor of a curse.

Go waited until the right time to give us his son to hold. He waited until the right time for our hand to be ready to reach down and pat the head of a son. He wanted us to know his own pleasure of embracing humanity.

Christ came to save the world with empty pockets.

His cupboards were laid bare. He had no suitcase. No belongings. None of his father’s inheritance carried along. He came with arms empty, in order to carry us home.

Wonder of wonders.

The first time, God gave man his own breath, as he breathed into Adam. The second time, God took man’s breath, and put it inside himself.

The first time, God raised up Adam out of the dust. The second time, God covered himself in dirt.