Christ in the Creases

As we travel the twelve days following the birth of Jesus, I find one of the most powerful images is in the ordinary. Jesus was not born in an extraordinary palace. He was not born into a family of extraordinary wealth, fame, or business acumen.

Jesus was born into the creases of life.

It seems Scripture works extra hard to not describe the physical appearance of Jesus. Was he tall or short? Did he have long, straight hair or short, curly hair? What color were his eyes? Did he have a magnetic stare that would freeze a room when he entered? We scour the text and find nothing. Apparently Jesus’s physical appearance wasn’t worth describing.

Jesus seems to move within the creases.

One of the most common things said of Jesus was how many did not believe he was the Messiah, precisely because he was so… ordinary. Even after his resurrection, Jesus is mistaken for a… gardener. Not a prince or priest, not a military general or marvel superhero. A gardener.

And yet, right through today people continue to look for Christ in the extraordinary. And just as Jesus was born into the ordinary, the Christ continues to be found in the common.

We are met in a simple smile, a cup of coffee and a casual conversation. The Christ in the common and in the creases.

We pray and plead for grand visions, but seldom just stand in nature. We clamor for people to speak in tongues, but grow bored or simply ignore listening to our spouse and kids.

We assume Christ dwells in the celebrity, the superstar, or the extra special, and then each year we read how Christ incarnates in infancy.

Love is born in the simple, in the ordinary, and in the creases. The Divine abides in us and among us, and yet the dominate desire of Western Christianity is to… escape. Rather than question an interpretation of the text we question the existence of the Divine.

Love abides in us as we abide there.

All the way back to “in the beginning,” we have a story of the Divine trying to take walks with us, to dwell among us, and to finally dwell in us. Humanity continues to look everywhere but inside and in front of.

We miss the gift of the gardener while looking for God in a self appointed greatness.

The Incarnation continues to teach us how the Divine crawls into ordinary life, into the creases of life, and then invites us to meet him there.