A Christmas miracle

I am a rotten, no good sinner.  Nothing I do is good of its own, I know that.  An ulterior motif hides around every corner.  And I wondered at the bark park this morning, how much blood was shed for my sins.  Way too much.

Just enough to cleanse me.

It strikes me, I don't know if Jesus ever knew fear.  I doubt it, because of all the times God says, "Fear not".  Possibly, when the wrath against sin roared against Him on the Cross, and He cried out that His Father had abandoned Him.

But if it was me, I would think the scariest thing He ever did He did that first day- just being born into a world where sin, death, and disease reigned. Where a nervous adoptive father might have dropped Him on His head, an umbilical cord could have wrapped around a tiny neck, a scavenging wolf could have rushed the manger looking for an easy meal. Where Roman mercenaries, Herod's secret service, a demon-possessed maniac, could have 'dashed Him against a rock' without a second thought.

Just like it could have to us.

We go through things like this, because we don't have a choice. HE DID.

A choice He made despite knowing how it would (temporarily) end. A choice He made despite knowing all the things I said about myself at the start.

You want a Christmas miracle?  We already have one.