Baby Jesus, it's alright
At Christmastime, part of the decor in Trey's room is a wooden nativity set. It has been a neat toy to play with (occasionally there are earthquakes in Bethlehem and we have to rebuild the stable, much to Trey's delight). It has also served as a visual enhancement to teaching Trey about the Christmas story.
A few times this past Christmas, as Trey was playing with the nativity set, he would take the Baby Jesus, rub it against his cheek and say, "Baby Jesus, it's alright."
Sweet, right?
But more than that. Ever since Trey was born, I have thought much about Jesus' mother. There are times when Trey does something funny or learns something new, I wonder if Jesus ever did something similar, and what Mary thought about it.
Motherhood is universal, after all, and I just have a feeling that she experienced many of the same emotions, hopes, and even self-based frustrations that I do.
For despite God's promises regarding Jesus' life, He was still human, still her little boy, needing guidance, nurture, and love. There is no doubt in my mind that Trey's words to his Baby Jesus were whispered long ago into a crying Savior's ear by His mother. And likely many, many times as he grew up.
Fast forward to manhood. Because of His radical teaching on love and God, His growing following, and the uneasiness of the powers-that-be, Jesus has been arrested, falsely accused, denied and deserted by His friends, spit upon, stripped, beaten to a bloody pulp, condemned to death, and nailed to a cross.
And at Calvary, there she stands. But where else would Mary be?
How I pray that my boys long outlive me. The suffering and death of one's child is every parent's worst nightmare. If it had to happen to me, I would definitely want to be there with my child. Holding and comforting and praying and reassuring him of my presence and love.
As Mary stood at the base of the cross, I know her arms ached to hold him. I know she cried. I know she prayed for God to ease His pain. I know, if it were up to her, in an instant she would have pulled Him down and crawled up there herself.
But surely God brought to her mind the angel's words, the promise of a Savior.
"He will save His people from their sins."
I am certain that it took the strength of God for Mary to accept that what she saw on the cross was the fulfillment of this promise. And I imagine as the peace that passes understanding settled over her heart, Mary must have whispered to her dying son, "Baby Jesus, it's alright."
And after a few days of grief and confusion, it was indeed alright.
"He is not here; He has risen!"
Lord Jesus, Your cross should have been mine. I will never understand why You love me so much that You would have been willing to take my place. Thank You is not enough.
How beautiful the heart that bled,
That took all my sin and bore it instead.
Happy Easter!
A few times this past Christmas, as Trey was playing with the nativity set, he would take the Baby Jesus, rub it against his cheek and say, "Baby Jesus, it's alright."
Sweet, right?
But more than that. Ever since Trey was born, I have thought much about Jesus' mother. There are times when Trey does something funny or learns something new, I wonder if Jesus ever did something similar, and what Mary thought about it.
Motherhood is universal, after all, and I just have a feeling that she experienced many of the same emotions, hopes, and even self-based frustrations that I do.
For despite God's promises regarding Jesus' life, He was still human, still her little boy, needing guidance, nurture, and love. There is no doubt in my mind that Trey's words to his Baby Jesus were whispered long ago into a crying Savior's ear by His mother. And likely many, many times as he grew up.
Fast forward to manhood. Because of His radical teaching on love and God, His growing following, and the uneasiness of the powers-that-be, Jesus has been arrested, falsely accused, denied and deserted by His friends, spit upon, stripped, beaten to a bloody pulp, condemned to death, and nailed to a cross.
And at Calvary, there she stands. But where else would Mary be?
How I pray that my boys long outlive me. The suffering and death of one's child is every parent's worst nightmare. If it had to happen to me, I would definitely want to be there with my child. Holding and comforting and praying and reassuring him of my presence and love.
As Mary stood at the base of the cross, I know her arms ached to hold him. I know she cried. I know she prayed for God to ease His pain. I know, if it were up to her, in an instant she would have pulled Him down and crawled up there herself.
But surely God brought to her mind the angel's words, the promise of a Savior.
"He will save His people from their sins."
I am certain that it took the strength of God for Mary to accept that what she saw on the cross was the fulfillment of this promise. And I imagine as the peace that passes understanding settled over her heart, Mary must have whispered to her dying son, "Baby Jesus, it's alright."
And after a few days of grief and confusion, it was indeed alright.
"He is not here; He has risen!"
Lord Jesus, Your cross should have been mine. I will never understand why You love me so much that You would have been willing to take my place. Thank You is not enough.
How beautiful the heart that bled,
That took all my sin and bore it instead.
Happy Easter!
Comments
Love, Joyce