It’s no secret that I adore my nephews and niece, but I’ve come to love them even more this Advent as I’ve allowed my mind to wander to Jesus’ childhood—to his first steps, his unadulterated joy, his being the life of the party, his being the center of adoration, his having grandparents and aunts/uncles, his being a normal kid like these kids I love.
Somehow, in Jesus’ birth and growth becoming more real, the lives of the five children in my life have become more special.
If I believe that each of us is created in God’s image—which I do—and that Jesus was fully human and fully divine—which I believe he was—then I cannot deny the similarities between Jesus as a child and these children that I love.
Jesus was not an untouchable, fragile, docile baby frozen in a silent manger scene and then moved to the temple as a 12-year-old pawn.
Jesus was real.
He could have been my nephew in another time and another place.
Jesus sang and danced and played and laughed and cried and melted down when he was tired or hungry and had a bed time and probably thought it was funny to make armpit noises.
Do these things make my Prince of Peace any less divine?
No.
They just make him more real, and they make his spirit more easily seen in the eyes of my four boys and a girl.
There is so much life to be lived.
The merry music making, present opening, food eating, game playing, and joke telling of my family’s Christmas celebration has reminded me this much.
Jesus came to live it.
He wants us to live it to.
With deep, deep love.
And careful avoidance of the minefields having a sleeping over on our bedroom floors.
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