As my son extends his hand from the bathtub, quizzically presenting me a chunk of his own poop, I receive the perfect object lesson for this Christmas Eve.
When all we had to offer was our own ungrateful, self-righteous filth, Christ condescended to us, “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men,” and “for the joy set before him, endured the cross.” And there, he who knew no sin became sin for us, that we the unrighteous might become the righteousness of God. He entered our poop-smeared bathtub, lifted us out, cleaned us off, and promises to one day make the whole thing as good, true, just and beautiful as it was always meant to be.
