by Joey Davis
A newborn son lay in her arms. The fruit of hours of painful childbirth. The result of nine months of morning sickness, moodiness, sleeping in uncomfortable positions, and worrying. Although these months were filled with challenges and difficulties, she was diligent in preparing and being prepared for this little boy's arrival. No mother has ever loved a son more than she loved this beautiful gift from God.
The last nine months had been an exercise in patience and faith. The man who would act as this boy's father was not present at the conception. Someone else was the Father of this child. So, along with the usual hardships of pregnancy, the mother was also made an outcast by rumors, innuendo, and scorn. Yet, she had been in the presence of an angel who promised that her son would change the world forever, so as this sweet infant escaped from the womb, she realized that the last nine months had been worth every pain and heartache.
Although the rigors of childbirth were indescribable, this would be one of her least painful moments concerning this son. She wasn't a fortune teller, but she knew the future that this infant would face. She realized that the ridicule and embarrassment of the last nine months had been nothing compared to the abuse that would be hurled His way. She realized that to change the world, He would have to battle the forces of hell on their home field. She realized that even though His conception was shadowed in confusion and controversy, His death would be shaded darker with shamefulness and brutality. None of His existence, from the womb to the grave, would be comfortable.
So as she pondered these things in her heart, she noticed that desperately gripping her index finger were the fingers that had flung the stars into place and the very hands that had formed her in her mother's womb. She watched in amazement as the feet that would someday be nailed to a sinner's cross as payment for the world's shortcomings, kicked aimlessly in the air. She listened as the heart that would explode on the hill of Calvary pumped the blood that would cleanse the sins of the world. She kissed the forehead that would be beaten by angry fists and pierced by a crown of thorns. She rubbed the back that would be laid open by an unlawful and merciless scourging. Through tears, she stared into the eyes that to this very day see and judge the hearts of all men..
...In a barn in Bethlehem, a teenaged mother aided the Son of God in beginning construction on the bridge that would eternally join creature with Creator.
November 27, 1994
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