A tiny heart beats within my own body. The babe that heart belongs to is developing. I feel his slight kicks, his tiny movements. He is presently a part of me, but he is not me. Outside, we wonder what he will be like. Who will he look like? He is loved, even before his birth. A strong kick, and his Daddy feels him alive in me. December 17th, 2011. We have been trusted with a miracle.
December 17, 2006. A late call in the night, sad news, four overstuffed bags of my stuff, a plane ticket. I'm off in the morning on a 757 bound for the states. Tired, I arrive. At home I sleep a few hours and then we are in the car again for a two day trip to Iowa. A funeral. A life well-lived, a letting go of one loved, a trusting into God's hands what was never ours to hold on to in the first place. We were a part of that miracle—of the life.
A tiny heart beat within her body. The babe that heart belonged to was developing. She felt his kicks, his tiny movements. He was a part of her, but He was God incarnate. Outside, they wondered what he would be like, this small boy who was God. He would resemble God, but what did God look like? The God of the Old Testament would be manifest in the flesh. He was loved even before his birth. He was with His Father before the foundation of the world. Yet, that baby in the flesh, Jesus, would be the miracle to bring eternal life to all mankind.
A visit to a garden, sad news, a supper. They journey to a hill with him. An innocent death. A burial. A life well-lived, and a death grieved. The letting go of Jesus, a trusting into God's hands what was His to hold on to-life. The resurrection. He gives the miracle of new life, and He is the miracle found in death. Because of Him, we have hope that we will rise again as he has risen.
Thank you, Immanuel, God with us.