“The incarnation of God is an infinitely greater thing than anything I would dare to write…” —J.R.R. Tolkien, Letters, 237 (italics in the original)
Imagine eternity. Imagine infinity—imagine absolute life and infinite power, with no beginning and no end. Imagine infinite size and mind, boundless knowledge, unapproachable holiness in both being and motive—perfection beyond anything anyone ever dreamt—ultimate power to create and destroy with utter absence of malice entwined with supreme, omniscient Justice.
Such power—such absolute personhood—holy and just, vast and unstoppable—light so brilliant and holiness so overwhelming that only the holy can enter His presence. Yet He is compassionate, tirelessly loving, overflowing with grace and mercy—all superlative qualities lavished on sullied beings—on rebellious, rejecting, wicked little creatures that He, in the beginning, created to be the recipients of His inexhaustible giving nature—inheritors of all of His love and grace. Suddenly the simple, often clichéd words that Jesus spoke to a desperate Pharisee burgeon with new force, infinite wonder, fresh worship:
“For God so loved—He gave…”
And, as if that were not enough, He told us to approach this infinite, eternal, all-powerful, all knowing, all holy, all righteous, all discerning, supremely just, immeasurably vast God as “Our Father…” That is miraculous. It’s also Christmas.
Now, come let us adore Him.