Before I could investigate the instruction sheet further, Hetti the Hippo exploded into our living room. Squeals of delight pierced the air as the pop up tent filled the entire open space. Within seconds, the six foot long hippo was filled with laughing children.
And then it hit me. The instructions weren't for getting the tent open.
They were for cramming it back into the box.
Ten months later, that crazy hippo is still living large in Emma's room. Even when we moved, we didn't bother trying to fold her up. (That instruction sheet is long gone!)
I was thinking about this the other day as I tried—and failed—to get my mind around the idea of God becoming man. Of the Word made flesh.
Of infinity squeezed into infancy.
I can't comprehend how He did it.
It was way more complicated than getting dear ol' Hetti back in her box.
No engineer, no physicist, no biologist, no chemist, no mathematician—no human could have ever figured it out.
It was a God-sized job.
It required a God-sized idea.
But who could have imagined that a six pound baby boy could contain—could be—a God-sized miracle.
For thirty-three years, Jesus squished Himself into humanity.
And after He accomplished what He came to do, He exploded from His box.
Two thousand years later, He's still living large in the heavens.
He was. He is. He always will be.
So as we focus on the babe in a manger, let's be sure we don't try to cram God into a box. He's not that kind of God.
He's the kind of God who limited Himself so that we could be filled with unlimited Joy.
Psalm 92:4-5 ~ For you, O LORD, have made me glad by your work; at the work of your hands I sing for joy. How great are your works, O LORD! Your thoughts are very deep. (ESV)