They Won’t Be Expecting That
At Christmas time, I’m struck by how unexpected it all is.
We expect a god to be powerful, mighty, smiting his enemies, concerned with his own glory. We don’t expect God to be born in a stable — a crying, scared, helpless baby.
Don’t forget this.
Don’t forget what God did on Christmas. It’s remarkable, and too easy to overlook amidst the tradition and the celebration.
The Creator became as one of the created. The Immortal was clothed in mortality. The Word became flesh.
Our God is humble, and always showing up where he’s least expected.
Shunning the halls of the famous and the rich and the powerful and the pious, he walks among the sick and the dirty and the broken and the needy.
Not only on Christmas, but today. I’m so grateful for that.
When I look for God in the most logical places he’s not there. But when I stumble road-weary and exhausted into a barn and rest among the rejected and the disillusioned, I find him.
He meets me where I need him the most, in the last place I’d expect to find him.
They won’t be expecting that.