The First Breath of Grace

By Karen Friday

He took his first breath.

Wrapped in swaddling cloths, though adorned with royal titles.
Wonderful. Counselor. Prince of Peace. Holy King. Immanuel (God with us). The Ancient of Days.

The Lamb of God who created the star that was lit and placed in the heavens to announce his arrival. He is the light of the world.

I held him in my arms. Overjoyed. This is my child. My baby. My boy.

Barely minutes old and seemingly fragile. But this baby embodied the fullness of the Godhead. Such power was later demonstrated when he cast out evil spirits and raised the dead to life again!

I studied every feature as mothers do when handed a newborn. Gazing intently at him, I saw the goodness and greatness of God.

Looking in his eyes—they would see into the hearts of men. I watched his mouth when he yawned or cried—wonderful, powerful, life-giving words would be spoken from his mouth. Commanding even the winds and waves to obey him.

Placing my hand on his chest to sense a strong heartbeat. The day was coming his heart—broken and betrayed by many—would offer forgiveness to all.

I held his hands and little fingers. The same hands would gently caress those who needed comfort and healing. Touch eyes restoring sight. His hands would stretch out to give life and love being pierced by nails.

I examined his feet (yes, five toes on each one). I had felt them kicking inside me. These feet would carry him to speak to the masses, walk on water, be washed by perfume, and pierced with nails.

Embracing him as a mother tenderly draws her child close, snuggling him near to my chest. (His embrace offers us more warmth and security than any earthly mother could ever bestow.)

How ironic I nursed him to sustain his physical life, whereas he is the very bread of life!

I delighted in watching him grow from childhood to an adult. There was no one like him; his smile, his voice, his presence, his spirit. Possessing great compassion, humility, love and tenderness.

It wasn’t always easy being his mother. I couldn’t fully understand his life—a mother who longed to grasp her son’s love and mission—it was out of my emotional reach.

I found myself at the foot of the cross sobbing. “Why, son?”

“. . . though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Philippians 2:6-11 ESV

Jesus was placed in my arms at birth, then a manger (a mere feeding trough for animals). For death he was placed on a cross (nothing mere about the cross, his love and mission were now within reach). After being raised from the dead, he was placed on his rightful throne in heaven and can be placed in our hearts if we let him in.

His Holy Word shouts:

“Lift you your heads, you gates; lift them up, you ancient doors, that the King of Glory may come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord Almighty—he is the King of Glory.”  Psalm 24:9-10 NIV

Jesus! Let Him in . . . to your heart . . . to Christmas!

© 2014 by Karen Friday

Note: I will not be posting a weekly blog next Thursday due to the Christmas holiday. I will be back the following week with a post for the new year.