What was it like? Heaven without man? The marvel, O Lord, that You would leave eternal bliss to seek the lowest of us, and in the lowest of places. Who can comprehend a love so sweet? Who would pursue like this? Yes, the law foretold Your coming. The prophets anchored our hope, but Lord, we looked for You in all the wrong places. We thought we knew what glory looked liked. You were supposed to be strong, dressed in gold, with the finest weapons, followed by a loyal army, ready for battle, and prepared to win. We knew that in Your coming, winter would pass away and the rain would be no more. But we missed something! We forgot that Your care, O Lord, is that of a beloveds, the Beloveds. You act not to conquer, but love. Although really, the two aren’t so different. Conquered by love, man finds his realest strength. Your love story to man, my sweet Savior, is like a young deer who leaps upon the mountains and skips over the hills in search of, of what? Of me? Although You could always see, the lattice between us kept man ignorant. But we are Your doves, O Lord, Your beautiful ones. And even if we fled to the sea, there You would find us and call us home. Your love story is the Nativity. Behold, the Son of God, born in the pits of Bethlehem to a young virgin and a humble carpenter. You entered the world not with trumpets, but with nothing at all. Yet at Your birth, great kings felt their castles shake, simple maidens felt their hearts leap, the shaperads felt called to stay, the Wise Men felt called to see, even the waves in all their strength calmed, and the winds hushed so they too could listen - if just for a moment - and the angels held their breath. Silent. Silent. The world was silent. Until something broke the calm. In the manger, dirty and cold, cried the Child, You O Lord. You needed a place to rest in safety and You cried for Your mother, our mother. In that little cry, You would not shatter the lattice, but become it. The veil was lifted. O little soul, know your worth. The Beloved is here! He cries to you, “I have come!” Listen. Listen carefully. Do you hear Him? This is the battle cry, the battle gladly fought for you. Christ, Your strength lay not in muscles but love, Your clothes not of gold but humble garb, Your weapon was the Word, and army, although many forthcoming, found its finest members in the stable. It didn’t have to be this way, but it was. A homeless babe, cold, surrounded by filth, in need of a mother, in need of a father, it didn’t have to be this way. You didn’t have to cry, but You told Satan the war had begun so there he flew to Herod. And You cried for me, O Lord, so that I may approach to hold you, dear and close. It didn’t have to be this way. Who am I that You would fight for me? Who am I that you would cry for me? Is this not the strangest pursuit? O the depths You will go to call man home, beginning in Bethlehem and ending on Calvary. We cannot escape Your love. Why should we try? Let us keep the spirit of the Nativity in our hearts all year long. When we cease to, we cannot hear the Beloved’s voice, each day anew: “I cry for you. Dare to find me humbled in the silence. Will you hold me close? Let me rest in your heart, and prepare your paths for war…”