A teenage mother.
A reluctant stepfather.
A baby born to die.
These are the characters that would fulfill a millennium-old prophecy. A prophecy its believers clung to during exile, humiliation, and despair with gritty hope. A prophecy of a coming King who would save them all.
Sometimes it would be proclaimed boldly in the streets; other times, it was hardly a whisper. Some probably gave up on its fulfillment, scoffing at the prophets and their adherents.
Where was this King? When would He arrive? What was the point of all this waiting?
A baby born to die.
It sounds like a curse. Like a cruel fate, a twisted punishment. What did this baby do to have such a destiny?
This is sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. The cursed child in that story would no doubt do everything in their power to fight their fate. Instead, this Child became a Man who fulfilled every prophecy every uttered about Him. He lived among His brethren, but anyone who spoke with Him knew that there was something different.
Some instantly recognized Him as the prophesied Messiah. Others scoffed at Him, ridiculing Him as a demoniac. Even those who followed Him didn't fully understand how the prophecy would come to pass. They were looking for a king who would overthrow the Roman government and free their people.
Instead, they got a Man who was obedient unto death.
What did Mary and Joseph make of all this? Surely even they must have had doubts.
The angel told Mary that her Child would be given the throne of David. She must have wondered how her Son would come to rule their nation, as she wasn't of high status. She was nothing more than a teenage mother.
Joseph wanted to quietly break the engagement off, escaping any drama that was to follow Mary and her scandalous pregnancy. An divine visitation changed his mind. The angel told Joseph that his Son would save His people from their sins. Did Joseph even comprehend what that meant? Nevertheless, he accepted the call to be Jesus' stepfather, enduring potential scorn and ridicule.
It's safe to say that the fulfillment of this ancient prophecy wasn't as expected. The birth of the Messiah was heralded by angels but only for lowly shepherds to hear. He wasn't born in a palace and the only gifts given were gold, frankincense, and myrrh. He didn't learn diplomacy or war strategy but carpentry.
Only a few recognized Jesus for who He really was when He was a boy. The rest of the world wouldn't know until much later.
For some, the moment came when He hung on a cross, bloodied and bruised beyond human recognition. For others, revelation came three days later.
The most significant detail in the Christmas story is that this sweet baby boy, wrapped in swaddling cloths in a manger, was born to die. The birth of Jesus Christ only matters because of His death, burial, and resurrection. That is the true reason for the season.
A baby born to die.
He died so that we may live. He died so that we could be restored to Him. He died so that we wouldn't have to.
Why? Love. A love so great, so unfathomable, deep and all-consuming. A love that drove the King of Kings, the I AM, the Almighty off of His throne in heaven into a manger.
That is more than enough reason to celebrate.
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
