Flesh Just As Real

Last Thursday night, my 4-year-old cousin Laurel sat (or wiggled rather) in my lap throughout a Christmas program. As I held her, I realized that Jesus was just like that beautiful child with me. If I were to hold Jesus as a child, I could feel the soft skin covering bones, joints, veins, and nerves of His flesh, too. He was warm to the touch. He blinked. He yawned. He would tug at a woman's long hair or reach for shiny things.

Then I thought , "Oh, to be Mary would have been overwhelming!" I used to envy her, but now I wonder how she ever slept, or got any housework done, or took care of herself, her husband, and her other children. If Jesus Christ were in my presence and under my care 24-7, what would I do? Yes, I know that He is ever-present, but being able to see him would be so distracting... or should I say "focusing." If He weren't flawless, He'd probably get tired of me following Him around like a small puppy under His every step. I'd never eat or drink or sleep or talk other than asking questions and praising Him. I imagine this is how the disciples felt at first, particularly after they saw his first miracle, or heard his first sermon. No wonder they were devoted. But they were flawed, as I am. Though they patted him on the back, feeling that he was truly real, and watched him walk and heard him talk and saw him eat... they still got distracted. Peter and the storm, Judas and the money, Thomas and the disbelief... myself and the troubles, myself and the motives, myself and the misunderstandings... I lose focus on the Almighty God who means everything to me, and is everything to everyone.

That night, as I watched the typical nativity reenacted, it was a chance to put myself in the stable, and reach out my index finger to let Christ wrap his little hand around it to remind me of what my whole life means -- remind me that someone as real as my own flesh is still here.