The chubby little hand of the baby reached up and wound his fingers tightly in his mother’s hair. She looked at him, and
smiled. He was beautiful, her son. Amazing. Incredible. Perfect in every way.
The wonder of his birth, she still did not fully comprehend. She just knew that she loved him, with a deep and protective love. Her first born son. Her miracle from God. The One that had been promised. Her mind raced back to her encounter, months before, with the angel. The one that had told her that she was going to give birth to this baby boy. Jesus. He was both God and man. He would save his people.
So much to think about…
But, not now. Not this night.
On this night so many years ago, the night the angels sang, the shepherds bowed, this woman and her husband brought the Son of God into this world…in the most humble of surroundings. In a stable, the stench of animals strong in the air, the Savior was born.
Born to die…
From the moment He took His first breath, He was walking down a path that led to a place called Golgotha, the place of the skull. The place where the cross was positioned. The place where Jesus died.
The place where Jesus cried out, “It is finished!”. Jesus, the Word, that had been prophesied about for centuries before His birth, was now hanging on a cross. That baby, in a manger, grew to be a man. The Redeemer. The Ransom from Heaven. The Only Begotten Son.
That night, long ago, in a small town in the Middle East, a child was born. Destined to change the world. That was just the beginning of the story. One cannot fully understand His birth, if one does not also acknowledge the importance of His death, and subsequent resurrection….for that brought the greatest gift of all.