The Helpless God

John 1:1-14

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. 

All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.

There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. John himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

The light was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Reflection

It was God’s preference to make a home in this tiny, fragile, helpless baby. The Almighty God, the Creator of all that is seen and unseen, that Holy God wanted to descend to become this wriggling little child, living in complete dependency upon his parents. Let that sink in — the incarnate God was in need of humans who would feed him, nurture him, change his diapers, and teach him. 

The mystery of the incarnation begins with utter helplessness.

So where is God?

God is wherever we find helplessness. God is wherever we find the sick, the destitute, the homeless, the addicted, the hungry, and the grieving. God is in doctor’s offices when we learn that our loved ones have dementia. God is in our bedrooms when we lift tearful, impassioned prayers; God is at the graveside; God is in group homes and rehab centers; God is with the aging, the cancer-stricken, the lonely, and the helpless.

We will only be able to worship this tiny, fragile baby Jesus, when we dwell in his presence with those who are vulnerable.

There’s no Christmas Day without the smell of dirty, outcast shepherds. There’s no Christmas Day without a displaced yet holy family, or the pain of childbirth, or the loneliness of night.

The mystery of the incarnation meets us at our weakest, and most helpless, and most lonely, and brings us into companionship with the infant Christ. Because Jesus could choose anywhere to become incarnate, and Jesus chose our very helplessness, and weakness, and fragility, and poverty.

Far too often, our lives feel as if they’re falling apart because of those things. We often feel unmoored and sent out to sea without a compass. We might feel like complete wanderers or spiritual misfits. But in gathering together around these sacred mysteries, we find ourselves in the presence of the Incarnate Jesus. He shares in this humanity, and our wanderings, and the fears that we might be the only one feeling this way.

That’s why we gather here each and every week. That’s why folks come here hungry for free, hot meals six days a week. That’s why we care about Newton and Sussex County. That’s why we walk alongside each other as a church in the darkest moments we face. Because Jesus is always being born anew within the weakness and helplessness of humanity. 

So whoever you are, whatever you’ve done, wherever you are going: people of God, rest assured! It is in the darkest of nights that the light of God will surely burn the brightest; 

And that light is not the light of power or wealth or status or able-bodiness. That light of Christ is a tiny, fragile, helpless, vulnerable baby, who shall surely show us the way, this day, in every age, forevermore.