Poopy Jesus

As a relatively new mom, I've come to think about Christmas very differently. I've come to be especially grateful for the baby Jesus - and all the intimacy, love, and poopy approachability that He represents. Something about the intimate day-in, day-out experience of caring for a poopy, drooly, utterly dependent (yet irresistably precious) newborn brings the incarnation home to me in a new way. I've started to realize the full extent to which God chose downward mobility, chose to leave all the privilege and power He was entitled to and instead placed himself intentionally in a situation of weakness and suffering - for the sake of His love for us. I was reading this morning from Henri Nouwen's book, "Finding My Way Home," and came across this passage from his essay on "The Path of Powerlessness." He captures this idea beautifully:

"People with power do not invite intimacy. We fear people with power. They can control us and force us to do what we don't want to do. We look up to people with power. They have what we do not have and can give or refuse to give, according to their will. We envy people with power. They can afford to go where we cannot go and do what we cannot do. But God's power is something entirely opposite. God does not want us to be afraid, distant, or envious. God wants to come close, very close, so close that we can rest in the intimacy of God as children in their mother's arms.

"Therefore God became a little baby. Who can be afraid of a little baby? A tiny little baby is completely dependent on its parents, nurses, and caregivers. Yes, God wanted to become so powerless as to be unable to eat or drink, walk or talk, play or work without many people's help. Yes, God became dependent on human beings to grow up and live among us and proclaim the good news. Yes, indeed, God chose to become so powerless that the realization of God's own mission among us became completely dependent on us. How can we fear a baby we rock in our arms, how can we look up to a baby that is so little and fragile, how can we be envious of a baby who only smiles at us in response to our tenderness? That's the mystery of the incarnation. God became human, in no way different from other human beings, to break through the walls of power in total weakness. That's the story of Jesus."

Indeed. Why would God ever choose this weak, powerless, and poopy way to come into the world, except for our sake? He has nothing at all to gain from it, except relationship with us. And He has no reason to even be interested in relationship with us, except that because of His nature, He loves us. And that love was enough to compel Him to come so far into our experience as to need His diapers changed by us. It really is profound. Sometimes I think about this when I change Annabel's diapers, to help that act seem more meaningful and less smelly than it really is. Jesus, Lord of all creation, put himself in her position so that we could know Him and relate to Him. And it worked - picturing baby Jesus on a changing table does suddenly make Him a lot more approachable. But I really am amazed that He chose to come so far. There is nothing we've done to deserve that kind of love - the willingness to go from a heavenly (poop-free) existence to being in diapers, just so that we could know Him, connect with Him. It's compelling. This Christmas I'm thanking God not so much for the sacrifice of dying on the cross, but for the sacrifice of becoming human in the first place.

Mr. Grumpy

Today is a hard day. I got up for my 8:15 class (after 30 minutes of laying in bed not wanting to get up) and the first words out of my mouth were, "I hate life." What I really meant was, "I hate waking up," but the experience of waking up was so all-encompassing that it felt like my entire life. Blech.

About 2 1/2 seconds after saying that, I started to feel guilty. Guilty because of my attitude, and because I know Nate heard me, and because I know how hard it is on him when I'm grumpy, and because I know one of his concerns about these two weeks without Annabel involves me waking up grumpy. (When she's the first thing I see in the morning, I'm a much happier human being.)
So then, not only did I hate life, but I felt guilty about it. And then, I started thinking about all of the reasons to be grumpy and all the things that are burdening me right now. And then, of course, I continued to feel guilty about my bad attitude. All I could do in this situation was 1. Ask God for mercy on my wretched soul and 2. Do everything possible to avoid interacting with Nate, so as not to say something that I would have to apologize for later.
I'm sitting in class now, 3 hours later, and not necessarily doing much better. I think I've managed to let go of the guilt thing, knowing that God's grace is big enough for my grumpiness and being encouraged that I didn't actually do anything overtly negative toward Nate (except subject him to my overall grumpy presence). However, the grumpiness itself, I'm not sure about yet. I guess I'll find out once I get out of class.
I'm not sure why I am posting about this not-very-encouraging state, but I guess it has something to do with being real, and also wanting an avenue to vent my grumpies without actually taking it out on someone. (I actually think I'm already starting to feel better.)