He Came as a Babe

We’ve had a few fussy spells with Lizah in the past week. Usually when she cries I can assume she’s hungry, tired, or uncomfortable and then we fix the problem and the tears stop. But several evenings in the past week she has gone through episodes that last an hour or more where she isn’t consoled by eating, bouncing, rocking, or a clean diaper. She seems so tired but she won’t fall asleep. Sometimes her body gets tense and she wiggles as though she’s in pain, so perhaps it’s a bellyache. In those moments I have to remind myself to not get frustrated but to sympathize, which can be difficult to do when you’re at the first extended family Christmas gathering for the season.

The other day I was decorating the house for Christmas and started pulling out pieces of the nativity. When it came time to put Mary cradling Jesus on the creche I stared at the figurine. He came as a baby. That means more to me this year than it ever has before.

First of all, the birth process is not beautiful by normal human standards. There is beauty in the wonder of it all, but the blood and pain is real. Very real. This world is not comfortable for a newborn baby who has spent life in the cozy darkness of the womb. Lizah cried almost the first hour of her life and I can imagine there was wailing that night in the Bethlehem stable. And Jesus, Creator of life, subjected Himself to the cruelties of this world. As a baby.

That in itself is a demonstration of love, but it didn’t stop there. What has really caught my attention in taking care of an infant is how needy that stage of life is. Not just when the baby needs some TLC, but every ounce of milk, each diaper change, baths and clean outfits, they’re all provided by someone bigger, more capable.

I wonder how that was for Jesus. Did He know He was a dependent infant? Did He ever need to just be held or sung to? Was Mary ever frustrated that He was fussing again? I don’t know, maybe Jesus only cried when He was hungry and maybe He slept through the night from day one. But I’m guessing that there were times Mary felt the toll of being a mother and I just really wonder if that was ever difficult for Jesus.

Perhaps it’s silliness to think about. The physical discomforts of the birth pale in comparison to what He would experience in saving the world. Same goes for the humility in being a needy baby compared to the humility Jesus demonstrated in being mocked and killed while claiming His rightful title as King. And yet the reality of birth and infancy is more alive to me than it has ever been before. I sometimes stare at Lizah and am so amazed Jesus chose to come. As a babe.

In the coming weeks may your heart be filled with the wonder He brings!