He came into the very world he created, but the world didn’t recognize him. John 1:10
The Treasure that Israel had been waiting for was born in the middle of the night. He was the Savior of the mother who delivered Him, the Teacher of the man God chose to be the father in their household. He was the Rabbi in a manger who would know more than every other Rabbi he would meet. He was the stone that the builders would reject, the Bread of Life for which His people would have no appetite. He was rejected in every way.
Few believed that He was the One they had been crying out for throughout the ages. In some ways, I just don’t understand. Even Jewish people in Nazareth knew, from prophecy, that their Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. They knew He would be born of a virgin and they knew Mary’s story. Certainly, they had heard the stories of the shepherds who witnessed a glorious display in the heavens and the wise men who followed the brightest star for 400 miles with expensive gifts in tow. They also knew from their own people’s history that many of God’s chosen leaders came from obscurity. God had anointed a shepherd fresh from the pastures to be their greatest king from thousands of years before. Why then did a King from Nazareth make them stumble? Why was this Prophet not honored in His own hometown? How could there have been such spiritual blindness?
For the same reasons I stumble today. More than any other generation, I know the history of Jesus. I have more Bible teaching at my fingertips than any previous people group who has lived before me. In spite of all these resources, I struggle to believe the promises that are in front of my face. I’m not hearing them second hand. No, I’m reading them for myself with full spiritual understanding.
I need peace but I often look elsewhere, outside of the Peace-giver. I need composure, a moment to take a spiritual breath, but often remain so worked up that anxiety overtakes me. I need hope but instead of raising my eyes to look into the face of the One who has planned my eternity, I’m spun up about the hopelessness of the times. Oh, it need not be.
Rabbi, teach me. Put your hand on my head and bless me. I am at Your feet. Feed me from Your hand. Comfort me, hush me, like the Mother and Father I need. You are exactly what I need, the One right here, right now. Amen