My God Is a Miracle

Baby, what a burden on your small, frail shoulders: all the fullness of the Godhead in so tiny a creature. Baby, you were a tiny seed growing in the adolescent womb of a young woman, something unexpected and fraught with danger. Who would understand that a young woman who had not yet lost her virginity could have conceived? How could she explain who your Father was?

Poor Mary and Joseph, two mere mortals entrusted with caring for and protecting a priceless treasure, the most precious in all creation. The pain of the tortuous journey through the birth canal to enter the world you yourself created—but it had to happen this way so that your body could experience the miracle of being born.

There is no sweeter feeling than watching a child sleep. What thoughts must have passed through your mother’s mind as she watched you in peaceful slumber?

How much uncertainty surrounded your future! There was little information: “The Savior of the World.” What would it cost to accomplish that? She could not grasp the magnitude of the event, but you could. You knew, and yet you did not give up; you did not change your mind.

Your body grew, you became strong in spirit and stature, and you became a beautiful man whose eyes reflected all the peace and mercy. Your hands devoted themselves to comforting, healing, and holding others up. That same body was battered by those who did not recognize you and who still do not know you, because they did not know; they could not know. The hands that healed many were pierced by nails in a futile attempt to hold you back.

Today we thank you, Baby. Thank you for not being concerned for your own self; thank you for all your sacrifice in facing your destiny. You were a gift beyond compare, eternal and therefore still present. Thank you for being born in inhumane conditions to live among us as one of us, for devoting your life to guiding us, and for surrendering yourself to death solely to give us life.

Thank you, Ancient of Days, for coming to us as a Baby.