Emmanuel

O come, O come Immanuel and ransom captive Israel
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Emmanuel, Emmanuel
Emmanuel, Emmanuel
Wonderful counselor

Lord of life, Lord of all
He is the Prince of Peace
Mighty God, Holy One
Emmanuel, Emmanuel

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Emmanuel, Emmanuel
God incarnate, here to dwell
Emmanuel, Emmanuel
Praise His name Emmanuel

Immanuel--God with us. God, with us.

Over the last few months, Izzy and I have been memorizing different passages of scripture. We started with Zephaniah 3:17: "The Lord your God is living among you, He is a mighty Savior. He will delight in you with gladness, with His love He will calm your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful singing." As I tucked her in tonight, I read her this verse, and I was struck by Immanuel. This sweet, reassuring passage of scripture starts with Immanuel.

At first I read it quickly, rushing through what I have memorized--The Lord your God is living among you. But then I took pause, The Lord your God is living among you. He is my God, He has created me, formed me from the start, fashioned me in His image. But He is also Lord of life, Lord of all--my God who spoke the heavens into being, who imagined the tiles on the wing of a butterfly, who sculpted mountain ranges and tiny pebbles. And He is living among me. He is here in my laughter, He sees my tears, He knows my temptation, He hears my lies and cruelty, He sees the oppression and the hurt and the anger. He is here.

The immensity of this idea, of God, the author and creator of the whole of His-story, stepping down into the chaos of our world can sometimes crush me. Why do that? Why leave Your throne? Why abandon the comfort of Heaven for the pallor of earth? Why leave a mansion to live in a hovel? It makes no sense to our human, me-centered logic.

But then I think about my child who is sitting in the mud with a skinned knee crying ugly sobs. I don't want to stand and lecture them, I don't want to sit there and watch them suffer alone. I want to run and kneel in the mud and hold my child. All that is within me wants to run. I don't hesitate about the mud, I'm not worried about my clothes, I want to hold my hurting child. Nothing would stop me. 

 

The way to real love is not to watch from afar. The way to real love is not a band-aid or callous pat on the back. Real love enters in. Real love sits in the muck, looks in the eyes, cries beside the wounded, holds the broken, and listens intently. Real love comes to be present, to sit with us in our suffering. Real love comes to dwell.

And it is only once these things are done that real love offers a hand and pulls us back up. In order for the rescue to truly work, the hurting must know that they are not in the muck alone. And not just for a moment, not an awkward crouch down so as not to get the pants dirty. God comes and sits, fully, in the mud. He is here to dwell. He is living among us. And He is a mighty Savior. First He lives among us, and then, and then He saves us.

 

It's a powerful thing when the mighty humble themselves. Sometimes it makes us uncomfortable, like the first time we see our father cry. We aren't sure what to do with the vulnerability that is there when we are so accustomed to seeing strength. But there is also something so incredibly moving to see someone abandon their strength, their power, their might, and watch as they move in compassion towards the one who hurts. It's a soldier laying down a gun and picking up a wounded child,  it's a President stepping out of the motorcade to shake the hand of a hungry veteran, it's the King who leaves His throne to search for His son who has gone missing in battle. It is love that moves these men to humility, and it is love that moves Jesus to come to us in a lowly stable.

 

Immanuel, God with us, because He delights in us with gladness. Immanuel, God with us, so that He can calm our fears. Immanuel, God with us, so that He can rejoice over us. He is mighty, but He loves us, and so He is here to dwell. Praise be to God!