Handling Little Hands and Little Feet

Rough, calloused hands—hands that told a story of ripping out walls, laying foundations, putting together joists, doors, floors…not the hands you would expect would be reaching for the newborn Son of God. These hands belonged to Joseph, a typical man, who found himself in a typical moment all fathers find themselves in; taking rough calloused hands to hold a tiny little newborn – with one inconceivable difference–this newborn was also the Son of God.

As men, we can relate to this moment Joseph finds himself in: We struggle holding babies. Especially new born babies. Working with wood, concrete, or steel, has become familiar– a baby is completely other. We would rather use all our strength opening a jar, looking strong and impressive, rather then hold a baby; babies are breakable–you hold them wrong, bad things can happen. Give us men something we can use our strength on to: pry, open, lift, fix, bend, hoist…but a baby? Like a computer shorting out—we can’t comprehend the information. I still remember when my first son Jesse was born; Kelly my wife went to pass him to me and I froze, what was I supposed to do?  I didn’t want my son’s first moments out of the womb consisting of being dropped on his head onto the floor, or held in such a way he couldn’t breathe. I had to figure it out–fast! This quick calculation of “what to do” when holding a baby can be observed with all men, we look inside to find the internal file that says “How to Hold Small Breakable Object,” but no such file exists, we have no internal knowledge to draw upon. We were taught to be strong, only to discover at the very moment we are asked to hold a baby we have no idea what to do. So, we suddenly act aloof, stand behind everyone else in case someone might even suggest we should hold the newborn baby, our eyes grow wide, we forget how to talk, we put our hands in our pockets…we are not made for such moments.

But the Son of God was made for such moments. Jesus through whom all creation was made, who could bend, fix, hoist — planets. Chose to come in a form that was vulnerable, weak, dependent—helpless. Jesus, as a baby, with a tiny hand so small it wouldn’t wrap around my little finger. And in this moment surrounded by rough shepherds, a callous handed carpenter, road weary travellers, and mighty celestial angels. Breathing through human lungs for the first time. It is important to realize that this weakness, this vulnerability, is also part of the Christmas story, “Emmanuel,” “God with us.” Today sitting on the throne in heaven, Jesus the Son of God. But also the Jesus the Son of Man – there is a human being ruling in heaven today, fully God but also fully man. Because Jesus chose to let go of the glorious things of heaven and be one of us, to be born just like us, to value humanity in all our sin and brokenness, and love us anyway. As we ponder Christmas this year lets also ponder the joys of vulnerability, we don’t need to have it together to approach Jesus, we don’t need to be able to fix, bend, and repair all our mess and weakness. But Jesus can, He can do all those things — with complete love, vulnerability, gentleness, and acceptance.  He understands us, he is one of us. “Emanuel, God with us.” (Phil 2:6-11)

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.  Hebrews 4:14-16