Advent

On brokenness and wholeness

God's movement is often abrupt and unsettling rather than predictable and settling.

MICHAEL JOSEPH BROWN

LONG AGO, in a land far away, there was an unspoiled garden created for a special purpose: to cradle and nourish the most captivating of God's creatures — humans. Among all the intricate life born out of creation — the plants and the insects, the birds and the beasts — these human creatures were unique. They were God-like, crafted in the image of their Creator. God had, indeed, breathed His own life into them, offering them living souls. And to these exquisite creatures, God bequeathed the earth in all its elaborate wonder.

In this time, before time was being counted, these humans lacked nothing. The world was without conflict. Everything was in harmony. All was perfect and whole, as it was intended to be. This essential state of being would later have a name: shalom. God's peace and order were perfect in all places, at all times, and in all things. Wholeness was completely normal.

Upon these human creatures, God bestowed incredible abilities. In collaboration with their Creator Father, they could in turn create other life after God's image. God also gave them the gift of a will, one of the most powerful of all gifts, which allowed them the choice to enter into relationship with their Creator — the essence of true love. And true love it was.

These human creatures were a seamless and perfect transition between the physical and the spiritual. They could at once be present in their humanness and commune with their Creator in spirit. The soul of the divine and the physicality of the human occupying the same space at the same time was, like shalom, completely normal. God was within them and around them, and they knew and experienced nothing but perfection.

Unfortunately, it was not to last.

Among the swaying grass and intricate forestry of the garden, God placed two specific trees. One became known as the tree of life, and God's children were invited to eat their fill of its fruit and enjoy life eternal. The other tree was known as the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. This one was forbidden. In all of creation, the fruit of this tree was the one thing God asked His children not to partake of.

Although the Creator had prohibited His children from eating this fruit, He did not take away their ability to choose otherwise. Love isn't love if there's no way out. And allowing this choice created a vulnerability. After all, loving and collaborative relationships require this kind of trust.

A time came when the first man and woman found themselves before the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, absorbing a deception that would bring devastating results. Satan told them that if they ate the fruit dangling before them, they would become like God. In perhaps the cosmic irony of all time, they had somehow forgotten that they already were.

And so they ate. The juice of rebellion that flowed into their bodies was fatal to their souls. A breach was opened. Trust was broken. The misused gift of will and choice shattered the intimate love and trust between Creator and created. With one decision, humankind created a new reality for itself — one that had never been intended, one that fractured humanity at its core. No longer were humanity and divinity intertwined in a state of shalom. Eden had fallen.

Armed with the knowledge of good and evil but separated from divinity, humans forged their way forward, only to systematically discover their powerlessness. Hate was born. Conflict was created. Murder was committed. Death was introduced.

As humankind tried to find its way back to shalom on its own terms, the consequences of the breach between the human and the divine became more and more apparent: Humanity had fallen into inhumanity. They had become subhuman, like animals, separated from God. The human soul was empty. Every attempt to fill the void created further devastation on a planet meant to be filled with the unfiltered glory of the Creator. Humanity became entombed in its own knowledge of good and evil. But the knowledge could not lead it back to its Creator, and so humanity began to forget who it was. All was lost.

And yet — the Creator Father had not abandoned them. He was waiting, watching, preparing to redeem the whole devolved mess. But a rescue would require something daring, painful, and unspeakably vulnerable. One day, at the precise moment of His choosing, God would invade the earth to rescue a species He had fashioned in His own image — an image He would not surrender to the darkness. And the invasion would be so counterintuitive, most wouldn't even understand what had happened until the victory was already won.

And that's what brings us to Jesus.

* * *

Mary was about fifteen years old, and she was engaged to be married. On this day, a day like any other, she had much to contemplate: leaving home, joining a new family, creating a new home, having sex for the first time, becoming a woman. But she had no idea that her world — and the human story itself — was about to change.

"Hello, favored woman. The Lord is with you."

The speaker's name was Gabriel. He was a chief among the angels of God.

Mary, startled from her daydream, couldn't figure out what this strange man was trying to say — or who he was. To reassure her, Gabriel began to state his business.

"Don't be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. I have great news! You're going to be a mother! The baby will be a boy, and you will name Him Jesus. He'll be a King! He'll be known as the Son of God, and His Kingdom will never end!"

Mary's blank stare revealed her confusion. Was he talking about the children she would have with her beloved Joseph? He must be. But who was this stranger? What if someone saw her talking to him? It was highly irregular for her to be approached by a man who wasn't in her family — and this man was saying crazy things. What was going on?

Stepping back, she stammered out the first words she could think of: "How? I'm a virgin."

When Gabriel spoke again, something shifted inside Mary. Curiosity began to rise up in her. What if this really was an angel of God? Either she had lost her mind — or she was truly being visited by Heaven.

"The Holy Spirit will come upon you," Gabriel said, "and the Most High will overshadow you. So the baby to be born will be holy, and he will be called the Son of...