irrational.

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There’d have been no room for the child.
-Madeline L'Engle

It is the season of the irrational. The season where we celebrate so many things that don't make sense. A baby born to a virgin. A baby born to rescue the world. A God that loves us so much that he would rescue us even as we live deep in our own depravity and junk.

It is within the irrational that the magic and wonder lie. The magic that the Night of the Child is a celebration of irrational rescue, irrational grace.
That he saved even me. That he loved even me. That he is warm even to me. That he would come to our earth filled with skinned knees and buildings that fall over and dads that sometimes don't ever come home. A perfect baby. A perfect night. A rotten stable.

The rescue for the whole world.

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