Emmanuel

Ask any pregnant woman, and she will tell you that one of the most frustrating things about being pregnant is the number of complete strangers who believe they have the right to just come up and rub your stomach. Ask a new parent, and they will tell you that one of the most frustrating things about having a new baby is the number of complete strangers who believe they have the right to just come up and get right in your baby's face, kissing them all over, and cooing over how wonderful they are. 

And yet, most of us can't help but feel that tug in our hearts when we see a baby - in the womb or out of it. Even if we understand social tact and are able to control ourselves, most of us see a baby and something inside of us instantly lights up with a different kind of life. 

Then here we are at Christmas with a baby in a manger who was born in our flesh for the express purpose that we might have a physical relationship with Him - that we could touch Him, smell Him, hear His voice, see His eyes - and most of say ooh, don't touch. 

That baby is holy. 

And somehow, we're able to stop ourselves. We're able to stand further from the manger than we are from the stranger in the grocery store and convince ourselves that it is right and good for us to do so. We're able to stand at a distance and marvel, so far outside the stable that we can still look up and see the star. In fact, we spend most of our Christmas looking at things and not touching when God Himself said here He is: 

Emmanuel. 

God with us. 

Not God in a museum in a still-life painting for us to look at. Not God on a postcard for us to send in the mail. Not God in some pristine, picture-perfect, totally clean bed of hay for us to marvel at. 

God in the dirt of a barn full of weary animals and weary travelers and servants and shepherds and a young set of new parents trying to figure things out and camel spit in the hay and donkey excrement in the corner and God with us, that we might draw near in all the mess and the muck of our own lives and light up with a different kind of life ourselves. 

It's the weirdest thing about Christmas, isn't it? Walk right up to Santa and sit in his lap. Break off a piece of the gingerbread man. Pet the reindeer, with both hands if you want. Build a snowman. Dance with a sugar plum fairy. 

But don't touch the baby Jesus.

Friends, touch the baby Jesus. Walk right up to Him and take Him in your arms. Hold Him while you listen to the cry of His heart. Look into His eyes and see the love. Fawn over Him. Bounce around. Dance. Light up with the life that you can't help but feel when there's a baby near.  

What else would He possibly be here for? 

Emmanuel. 

God is with us.