Advent season seems to come and go in the blink of an eye. But this year take the time to slow down and ask God to teach you how to really love like Jesus!
It’s so easy for us to forget the recklessness of Advent.
It all looks so safe and tidy and sanitary in our nativity scenes. The hay is soft and yellow. Joseph and the shepherds have showered and groomed their beards. Little Lord Jesus is wrapped in swaddling clothes of pure white 100 percent cotton, a serene smile on his face. King Herod and his band of baby-killing ruffians are nowhere in sight.
But how different the reality must have been: a newborn and his parents stashed among the animals, covered in dirt and sweat, weeping tears of joy or pain or fear or infant hunger. How shocked and uncertain those same parents must have been, when a few reclusive men smelling of sheep dung showed up looking for a king, or when foreigners carrying spices warned them that a murderous Herod was on his way. How agonizing it must have been for You, as a father, to entrust Your son to a human race that had already failed You innumerable times. How heartbreaking it must have been. How foolish.
If You had asked for our advice, we would have recommended a safer plan to save the world. We would have proposed a love without risk, a love given only as deep as deserved. We would have suggested something wise, something logical. But You didn’t ask for our help. Instead, You insisted, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 1:25, that Your foolishness is wiser than human wisdom. You chose to love in a way that wouldn’t make sense.
You wanted to be foolish. And You succeeded. It was foolish of Jesus to come to earth, logically speaking. To go from divine throne to fragile infant body. To trade streets of gold for filth and disease and violence. To love the world with wide-open arms, vulnerable, and then be betrayed. It was foolish to sacrifice everything for a crowd of ungrateful murderers, ransoming the lifeless blood of humanity with the priceless blood of a Savior.
But it’s by that same foolishness that the world came alive. That’s the agape love of God, the unconditional, reckless, wasteful, open-armed embrace of God. Without foolishness, there can be no incarnation. Without foolishness, there can be no salvation.
When we celebrate the arrival of Jesus, we’re celebrating the foolishness of love.
Teach us, God, to remember this Advent season what love really means. When we declare our intention to love like Jesus, don’t let us settle for a love that’s safe and bordered. Don’t let us love only those who look or act or think like us, only those who are deserving, only those who are lovable. We dare to ask that You teach us how to really love like Jesus. Teach us to love foolishly.
Teach us to open our arms wide to others, even when it means exposing ourselves to discomfort or danger or death. Give us courage to love recklessly, to risk being hurt. Let us prefer being betrayed, as You were, rather than refusing to embrace the person who might betray us. Teach us a love that is unrestricted, unbounded, unrelenting.
Make us humble. Let us think less about ourselves and more about the world around us. Help us set aside our own wants, our own needs, trusting that You are in control of them all-and then fill up that empty space with love. Make us more passionate about the interests of others than we are about our own interests, as Philippians 2:3-4 calls us to be. Give us the humility to value others even more than we value ourselves.
If Your love is foolish, let us be foolish too. Make our love like Your love.
Give us the love of the shepherds who left their fields and sheep to worship an infant king. Give us the love of the wise men who risked Herod’s wrath to follow stars and angels’ orders. Give us the love of Anna the prophet and of Simeon, whose deathbed request was to look upon the redeemer of Israel.
Give us the love of a Father who sent his only son to die.
It cost You everything to become Emmanuel, God with us. Make us reckless enough to follow in Your footsteps this Advent season. Let Your coming be our call to action. Let the incarnation be our battle cry.
We pray by the power of Jesus, whose foolish love has given us life,