The Word Became Baby
“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.” (Luke 2:6-7 NIV)
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)
Perhaps it stems from morbid curiosity, or a desire to swap battle stories and compare heroic feats, but women, especially moms, seem very eager to hear and share birth stories. We just have to know how many hours she labored and how big he was and how easily he latched. But when it comes to Jesus’ birth, there are few details to satisfy our curiosity. We don’t know how long Mary labored or how she handled it. We don’t know what percentile Jesus’ length and weight fell into. Was he lanky or chunky? Was he colicky or serene?
I think the details of Mary’s labor and Jesus’ birth don’t matter as much as the fact that it happened. The Lord of all creation, upon whom all things depend, chose to become dependent. I find this so striking because I look at my infant son, my firstborn, and am constantly reminded of his utter dependence on me. He needs me to nurse him, feed him, clothe him, change him, pick him up, put him down. He needs his Mommy.
The Word of God chose to be a baby who needed his mom. He chose to gestate in a womb, be expelled from a uterus, and be swaddled by his mother. He chose to live through infanthood, childhood, and adolescence. He really did identify himself with all of humanity by experiencing humanness in its various stages. He crawled before he walked on water.
So, let’s take a minute to peer into the manger and gaze upon the baby boy who was God. He stepped into time, into history, and into a family upon whom he would rely. The Word became baby that we might become children of God.