Emmanuel, God with Us
On Christmas Day it is a great honor to "steal" words from my good friend Doug Priore who posted this journal entry on his daughter's CaringBridge page last night. Thank you Doug and Mandy for sharing your story, for prompting us toward wonder, awe, gratitude, and grace. A little merry, a little bright. But most of all, wishing you a day saturated in the Light of the World.
Saturday, December 24, 2011 8:19 PM, EST
Saturday, December 24, 2011 8:19 PM, EST
written by Doug Priore
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” John 1:14
I am sitting in my daughter’s room at the cardiac ICU. A few days ago they opened little Sophia’s chest back up to alleviate the pressure her sternum was putting on her heart. Right now it needs all the help it can get as it tries to pump blood out to her tiny body. She has a dressing overtop her open chest so you can’t see anything too gross but I know what’s there because I’ve been told by the doctors. And I began thinking about what weak and imperfect stuff this flesh really is. I look at my daughter and how fragile she is; how many medicines are being pumped into her right now just to give her a chance at life. We really are such fragile vessels.
At one point in II Corinthians, Paul refers to us as “Jars of Clay.” Clay was the Tupperware of the ancient world. It was throw-away storage. There are layers and layers of it all over archeological sites in the Holy Land. When I studied in Jerusalem in college I would literally swipe a spoon from the dining hall and go out and scrape around on the hillside trying to find something cool like a say a coin or the Ark of the Covenant. All I ever found was pottery, bags and bags full of pottery. I’m no pottery expert so I have no idea if it was from Abraham’s day or from 50 years ago but I can tell you one thing it was everywhere. This is the throw-away stuff in which, according to Paul, God has stored His treasure. We’re made up of fragile, breakable, imperfect material. As I watch my daughter’s open chest heave up and down with the ventilator I’m very poignantly reminded of this.
I am saying all this because when I look at the imperfection and pain of all this it that much more amazing that God entered into this mess. But here’s what I’ve come to realize through this whole experience with Sophia. God WANTED to enter into it because He’s our father and He loves us.
I walk down these halls and see so much pain. They try to dress it up and make it cheery because it’s Christmas but no matter how you decorate it, it’s still a cardiac ICU. But I don’t begrudge being here for one moment. I’ve never once thought to myself, “Jeez, Sophia you are a real pain in the butt!” And of course, those of you who are parents know why: because she’s my daughter and I love her and I would spend a million hours on this floor if I knew it would guarantee that I could bring her safely home someday. And that’s how God felt when he squeezed himself into this silly, breakable stuff called flesh. It doesn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t have WANTED to come and be incarnated here among us but He’s our Father and He loves us so he did WANT to. He wanted to so much that he stayed for 33 years died and awful death and rose again just to guarantee that He would have us safely home again.
So as you sit there and read this (if you’ve made it this far) say a prayer for Sophia tonight. Pray that she will have a good Christmas Eve and a good Christmas day and that underneath that dressing her heart grows stronger, and pumps with more force. Then, if you haven’t already done so, stop and pray for yourself. How’s your heart? Is it broken? God wants to fix it. Give it to Him. I want my daughter to be healed. That would be the greatest “Christmas present” I can think of. It would make for great “stocking stuffers” if there were some people out there who heard Sophia’s story also took some time to turn their hearts towards Jesus because of some piece of Sophia’s story that they have heard. It will take an amazing miracle to heal my daughter’s heart. It only takes God’s amazing grace to heal yours.
Merry Christmas everybody.
I am sitting in my daughter’s room at the cardiac ICU. A few days ago they opened little Sophia’s chest back up to alleviate the pressure her sternum was putting on her heart. Right now it needs all the help it can get as it tries to pump blood out to her tiny body. She has a dressing overtop her open chest so you can’t see anything too gross but I know what’s there because I’ve been told by the doctors. And I began thinking about what weak and imperfect stuff this flesh really is. I look at my daughter and how fragile she is; how many medicines are being pumped into her right now just to give her a chance at life. We really are such fragile vessels.
At one point in II Corinthians, Paul refers to us as “Jars of Clay.” Clay was the Tupperware of the ancient world. It was throw-away storage. There are layers and layers of it all over archeological sites in the Holy Land. When I studied in Jerusalem in college I would literally swipe a spoon from the dining hall and go out and scrape around on the hillside trying to find something cool like a say a coin or the Ark of the Covenant. All I ever found was pottery, bags and bags full of pottery. I’m no pottery expert so I have no idea if it was from Abraham’s day or from 50 years ago but I can tell you one thing it was everywhere. This is the throw-away stuff in which, according to Paul, God has stored His treasure. We’re made up of fragile, breakable, imperfect material. As I watch my daughter’s open chest heave up and down with the ventilator I’m very poignantly reminded of this.
I am saying all this because when I look at the imperfection and pain of all this it that much more amazing that God entered into this mess. But here’s what I’ve come to realize through this whole experience with Sophia. God WANTED to enter into it because He’s our father and He loves us.
I walk down these halls and see so much pain. They try to dress it up and make it cheery because it’s Christmas but no matter how you decorate it, it’s still a cardiac ICU. But I don’t begrudge being here for one moment. I’ve never once thought to myself, “Jeez, Sophia you are a real pain in the butt!” And of course, those of you who are parents know why: because she’s my daughter and I love her and I would spend a million hours on this floor if I knew it would guarantee that I could bring her safely home someday. And that’s how God felt when he squeezed himself into this silly, breakable stuff called flesh. It doesn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t have WANTED to come and be incarnated here among us but He’s our Father and He loves us so he did WANT to. He wanted to so much that he stayed for 33 years died and awful death and rose again just to guarantee that He would have us safely home again.
So as you sit there and read this (if you’ve made it this far) say a prayer for Sophia tonight. Pray that she will have a good Christmas Eve and a good Christmas day and that underneath that dressing her heart grows stronger, and pumps with more force. Then, if you haven’t already done so, stop and pray for yourself. How’s your heart? Is it broken? God wants to fix it. Give it to Him. I want my daughter to be healed. That would be the greatest “Christmas present” I can think of. It would make for great “stocking stuffers” if there were some people out there who heard Sophia’s story also took some time to turn their hearts towards Jesus because of some piece of Sophia’s story that they have heard. It will take an amazing miracle to heal my daughter’s heart. It only takes God’s amazing grace to heal yours.
Merry Christmas everybody.
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