This Christmas, I'm thinking about the Word becoming flesh.
And did the angels deem the incarnation plan ludicrous?
God in seven or eight pounds? Wrinkled flesh and floppy head? A completely dependent baby? Is this the message for the shepherds?
Isn't the announcement supposed to read: today in the town of David a Savior sits on a throne? Arrives in flashy cape? Rides a conquering white horse? Leads a massive social revolution against the powers-that-be? Surely these earth entries are more fitting for God Almighty.
Surely the line can't be Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord (Luke 2:11)?
So God's going as a wee little thing, hey? He's going to rely on imperfect parents to raise him in an uncertain world? This is not exactly a winning formula to re-create the royal glories of the Davidic age. And aren't God's people expecting someone to transform a society that's slipped away from it's pious past?
The plan's simply crazy.
Perhaps the angels understood God's rationale once they witnessed the shepherds cradling baby Jesus with their dirty, weathered hands. Just maybe their heavenly voices were silenced by the sight of rough men hugging God to their chest, their filthy hearts.
For, maybe they realized why God's redemption story begins with newborn hide: it's easy to draw near a baby.
And this Christmas, I'm thinking about how the living Word dwelt among us so we could read the story in flesh and blood--in nails and a rugged cross.
And I wonder, do I, as a writer, live my words?
Merry Christmas, fellow writers! Let us live our words in 2012.
Melanie N. Brasher is a full time mama of two boys and wife to an incredible husband who understands her bicultural background. She moonlights as a fiction and freelance writer, crafting stories and articles toward justice and change, and contemplates faith, family, and writing at her personal blog. Though she’s an aspiring author, she’ll never quit her day job.