I wonder what Mary felt as she looked into the eyes of her newborn baby boy and realized they were the eyes of her redeemer. I imagine there were nights that she wept as she held Him in her arms and wondered how she could possibly raise the Messiah. Maybe she cried out to God and begged Him to show her how she could let her son die for the sins of the world—how she could let Him die for her.
When Mary gave birth to her firstborn in the middle of a barn on that desperate winter night, the world gained its savior. His entrance into the world didn’t include a chariot of white horses descending from Heaven. There were no swords of fire and no trumpet sound. He didn’t arrive clothed in bright shining armor or a brilliant white sash.
He came as an infant, in a barn, born to a young girl with nothing seemingly “worthy” about her. He came as one of us.
And although I wonder about the magnitude of awe Mary felt as she cradled her baby boy and whispered His name into the night for the very first time, I also marvel at the majesty of it.
God gave us the greatest gift that night. A gift we can never repay, or earn, or deserve. A gift we can simply just accept.
The gift of eternal love and salvation.