First Date

March 7, 1968. First date I took in oxygen, a first tiny ragged breath, followed quickly by a cry. Less than ideal circumstances surrounding that first date… didn’t know until relatively recently that Mom spent those first hours (and months) around my birth coping alone. Didn’t know my father was in jail for drug possession. Mom’s daily life spent with my father must have felt a million miles away.

This time of year, I think a lot about another birth that happened under less than ideal circumstances. I think of Mary making her way to Bethlehem. I think of the slow progress, as she covered the miles so very close to term. Think of them headed for the census, to Joseph’s ancestral city. All Joseph’s relatives would have been headed to that same ancestral city. And as pregnant as Mary was, no one took her in. No one made room for a few more. No one gave up a room for this cousin about to bring new life to the world. I think of that first date Jesus took in oxygen into His tiny human body. Think of that first tiny ragged breath followed quickly by a cry. Mary’s time with her cousin Elizabeth must have felt a million miles away.

And I can’t help thinking of that day thirty years later, when Jesus gave the only gift I’ll ever need. I think of him hanging on the cross. Think of the weight of sin invisibly draped on Him. Think of a head hung low as he chose to remain in that place, chose to remain hanging. Jesus’ time in heaven, with angels singing His praises since their creation, must have felt a million miles away. I think of that last ragged breath. No cry followed.

Until… the first date of His resurrection. The world was put into context. Jesus’ first infant cries put into context. Mary’s unique life put into context. March 7, 1968… put into context.



It's week two of blogger idol :)