When you look into that cradle, what do you see? It looks like a little Jewish baby. But who is this? This is God, wrapped up in those clothes. The sovereign of the universe, born into the world He created. That cradle was made of wood, and filled with straw. But the One lying there is the One who said, “Let the earth bring forth grass, seeds, and trees.” And the earth, at His command, brought forth plants and trees of all types. Whether it’s a giant redwood or a little clover, He created them all. And here He is, resting on that straw, splitting time in half, with the most powerful name in all the earth, having existed before any of this was here. This is God incarnate. This God coming on the scene. This is God breaking into human history.
—Landscapes of His Grace: A Visual Devotional
Reading Dr. Stanley’s description of the Christ-child’s birth brings to mind a memory from my childhood. Growing up in a family that didn’t celebrate Christmas, I was curious about the baby at the center of the holiday. Who was he, I wondered, and why did my neighbors, classmates, and people all over the world focus on this child?
Now that I understand who my Messiah is, I want others to as well, and to love Him as I do. But what we know about babies can interfere with the truth of the situation. Think about all the Christmas cards with images of a soft, delicate infant. And what about that sweet clay figurine in the crèche? When we see these familiar December symbols, it’s easy to recall the utter helplessness of every newborn we’ve encountered—and to imagine Mary’s very human child as no different at all.
Add to that our daily exposure to distressing headlines: No wonder we’re prone to misconstrue the apparent power of our world’s most formidable leaders. But let’s avoid making incorrect assumptions about who has authority over whom! Despite Christ’s tiny, incarnated human frame, let’s not think of that baby as anything less than the full reality of who He is: the almighty Creator God, who spoke galaxies into existence and breathed life into man. Without Him, as Paul boldly declared to the Athenians in Acts 17:28, none of us would live, move, or exist at all.
Despite Christ’s tiny, incarnated human frame, let’s not think of that baby as anything less than the almighty Creator God, who spoke galaxies into existence and breathed life into man.
Consider how remarkable it is that those ideas were expressed by Paul—a high-powered leader of distinguished pedigree, enviable education, and a brilliant legal mind—who not long before had been on a crusade to snuff out the movement known as the Way. The same man who approved of jailing and murdering Jewish Christ-followers in fact became one. And then, because of his previous obsession, he saw himself as the worst of sinners and on multiple occasions risked his life to proclaim Christ.
So as you contemplate the scenes of Christmas, recognize who it was lying in that manger: not simply a fully human child but in fact the Creator of all things microscopic and immeasurable throughout our galaxy and all others. And, no less miraculous, the changer of hearts—Paul’s, yours, and mine.
