The Holy Paradox

Posted on December 10, 2008 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

It was dark … until a brilliant light from a single star pierced the opaque blackness. This was a night unlike any other. Shepherds looked up and saw. Wise men began their journeys. Each anxiously dreaming about that final moment when they would reach their destination and meet the promised king. Their Savior. “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

Fear, curiosity, and wonder lingered in their stomachs as they drew near to the place where the star shined brighter. Hearts racing, they unconsciously followed the clear path unfolding before them. A stable? They cautiously entered the musty shack where the air was thick with manure and dust that sparkled in the muted glow of candles. A helpless infant lay in a feeding trough, sleeping on a bed of hay carefully constructed by a loving mother. The Savior of the world.

Jesus.

The manger scenes so meticulously set out on our bookshelves and tables are perhaps the most paradoxical picture we will ever see. Think about it. A  Ruler … Savior of the world … the Messiah … making a grand entrance by being born into a poor family, in a stable surrounded by animals? It’s counter-cultural. Commoners like carpenters were not the powerful people in that day. Rulers were wealthy, unjust, arrogant, and forceful. They led wars and mercilessly took what was not theirs.

But Jesus was simple. Quiet. Gentle. Wise. He had a different purpose, and his common birth set the precedent for his entire life on earth. “He grew up before him like a tender shoot and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows familiar with suffering” (Isaiah 53:2).

Instead of mingling with great teachers of the law, Jesus spent his time ministering to prostitutes, caring for lepers, healing the sick, fixing the broken. He loved the unlovable, he touched the untouchables, he rescued the lost. That was Jesus’ mission on earth. Not to vindicate, not to get even, not even to point out what everyone was doing wrong. But to give all of us a choice to accept his love or reject it, to befriend the lonely and the hurting.

“The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” (Matthew 23:11). This is the statement Jesus made to the world—and it drove him to the cross.

The Son of God was spit on, mocked, insulted, whipped. Because he wasn’t what people expected. He wasn’t what people wanted. It didn’t make sense. Why would God send a Messiah who would violate the law by healing on the Sabbath? But Jesus didn’t come to enforce the law, he came to set people free. Why would the savior of the world spend his time with outcasts instead of teaching in the temple? But Jesus didn’t come to reach those who knew him, he came to seek out those who were lost. Why would a man claiming to be God’s Son die a degrading death on a cross? Because it was the only way.

Jesus’ life began and ended much the same way. In perfect humility. His birth would not be complete without his death, and his death was somehow foreshadowed in that decrepit stable. “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5).

We can’t look at a modern manger scene and see the whole picture. We can’t watch a Christmas pageant and understand the significance. There is more to Christmas than the miraculous birth in a stable. There is the promise of undeserved redemption that forced grown men to their knees.

This Christmas, may we all look past the lights, the gifts, and the simple manger scenes and embark on a journey like that of the shepherds and wise men  … keeping our eyes on that star, aching with anticipation … our hearts focused on meeting our savior. Let us see the whole picture and fall to our knees out of reverence for the sacrifice embodied in a common infant who literally lived to serve and loved beyond his last breath. Let us meditate on this holy paradox and allow it to change our lives.

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