Yet it seemed that God would derive infinitely more pleasure and draw intimately closer to the likes of us by putting majesty squarely in a manger. God made the poverty of our existence the place of His home.

To think that God pens history solely as a retelling of ‘what was’ is to miss the extraordinary fact that history is God’s initiation to ‘what can be.’ And Christmas is one of the greatest moments in history which renders it one of the greatest invitations of our life.

Maybe I don’t have enough beginnings in my life because I fought against the endings that were about to birth those beginnings.

Sooner or later I will realize that the very things I most desperately need are the very things I am unable to give myself. Therefore, I will either be left despising the fact that I am doomed to live out a life that is perpetually empty, or I will realize that an empty tomb is the single thing that will eternally fill me.

What would behoove me to instantly declare God not to be God unless He followed my script in some tediously exacting manner? I must confess that I am less likely to believe that it’s a matter of some narcissistic demand that I freely pen my own script. Rather, I think it’s fear that I’m too inadequate to follow God’s.

Easter is the final solution to the finality of death.

A god of the ‘possible’ is no God.

God emptied out that first tomb so that He could turn around and empty out me.

Although I rail against it, death is the dark demarcation beyond which I am at the mercy of my own end. To the contrary, an empty tomb says that my end is at the mercy of God’s beginning.