I suppose that this was how Mary felt in part. Childhood dreams of her ‘prince charming’ and a whirlwind romance shattered on the rocks by an intruding angel named Gabriel. Now she’s destined to a life of suspicious purity (1st century tabloid material) and in danger of a potential stoning of biblical proportions unless something happens. Yet somehow she is ‘most blessed amongst all women’. Strange. Then comes that night when “It” happens- the stable, the smells, the screaming, serenading angels, and disruptive shepherd’s... all a woman hopes for...right? But, HE is so beautiful. This baby is no longer “It,” but He, the Emmanuel, God-with-us. His name is Jesus. And it is somehow in an unexpected, magical way. . . good.
Mary wasn’t the only one pregnant with expectation. Her nation, her tribe, her family was on pins and needles. Imagine being “Gods-People” who had been promised that one day ‘It’ would happen. For 2,000 years you have been waiting for an illusive gift-wrapped surprise visit from God. Through prophets and mad-men hints of what this ‘It’ will be, do, and bring haunt their dreams and legends. Parents pass the stories down from generation to generation knowing that “It” will land in their children’s lap one day. Then one day Emmanuel shows up. God incognito. The Word made flesh and dwelt among us. And “It” doesn’t quite look like ‘it.’ This wasn’t the Advent we waited for. This Jesus doesn’t fit our imagination. He’s just a baby. He doesn’t look like a Hero. And we begin to question.... everything.
A Light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.