Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God. Psalm 22:7-9
God Is A Midwife
Murmuring, whispering–we’re anxious for this babe to be born.
We feel the swelling grip of the contractions of this world, and we wait some impatient, uncertain moments for Him to crown–to be crowned.
We breath s l o w–concentrated efforts to carry ourselves from one pulsing moment to the next. We fix our eyes on just one point–the invisible promise of His imminent coming, and with that, the promise of our own becoming.
God is a midwife to His laboring world. He holds us, reminding us to breathe, He props us up and leans in to keep us from sinking. We bare down, push too hard and He whispers quiet, but firm, “s l o w–breathe“.
We sweat and bleed. We struggle and pant. We live weary.
He knows how life comes. He’s spun it around in His hands and watched every moment leading up to this, and what will come after, what has already been. He knows the burn of labor, the crushing pain of the gift that both splits and fills us.
We await His coming.
We wait and in the long stillness of night, in the filth of a stable, ripe with droppings, the King drops in. He fills the whole stinking space with His glory–
Heaven sings over this babe.
The world rocks and groans with the afterpains.
Christ, a miracle landing smack in the middle of a mess.
We re-labor over this impossible birth, year after year, each shadowed Advent and the seasons still coming.
Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
Immanuel–God with us.