When I Think of Baby Jesus Lying in a Manger

by Dick Buckingham, Administrator

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

This little Infant wrapped so tightly in the swaddling clothes and lying suspended on a bed of hay was as comfortable as His mother could make Him. And yet I’m sure I can hear crying.  He, though God the Son, was also completely human, and human infants cry.  The Bible doesn't specifically say that He cried, and our manger scenes always depict a pleasant faced Child, and even some of our carols claim “no crying He makes,” yet I am sure I hear crying.  Babies cry when they are hungry, tired, uncomfortable, or just when they want to be held and loved.  Jesus was a baby just like us, and had the same needs and desires, so I’m sure there must have been crying.  What led the shepherds to the manger where Jesus lay?  Yes, the angels told them they would find Him in a stable in Bethlehem, but there was certainly more than one stable.  Did they have to search each one of them until they found Him?  Or could it be as they entered the quiet, sleepy little town that they paused with hand cupped to ear, straining to hear the distinct sound of a newborn infant’s cry?

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

But perhaps it is not His cry that I am hearing.  Maybe I am hearing the future echo of wailing and weeping, mothers mourning the loss of their own young sons.  For it was to this very town King Herod sent his men in search of this One, but in the process of searching, all male children under two years of age were killed.  Oh, the mournful wails these mothers must have made as they grieved over their children.  Could it be that the Infant in the manger, though not responsible for their losses, grieved with them as He was the One who was targeted by this senseless decree?  Perhaps it is His tears of loss over these little ones that I hear in the manger.

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

Yes, I think it is the sound of mourning that I hear, the mourning of a mother in the funeral procession of her child.  But the town I see now is not Bethlehem, but the little village of Nain, and the woman, a widow; the dead child, her only son.  Yet the One from the manger is here too, grown now, and with great compassion He stops the procession, and for a moment, His face shows grief.  But then the tears of mourning on the mother’s face become tears of joy as the boy in the procession is raised to his feet by Jesus – alive!

But once again the sound of mourning fills my ears and I turn to see another parent pleading with Jesus to come, heal his sick child.  Jesus leaves with him immediately, but on the way a message is delivered to the father, “too late, the child is dead.”  Oh, had Jesus only been found sooner, if only they had rushed more quickly to her side.  But now only grief, and sorrow, and tears.  Yet Jesus walks on to the place where she lay and as before He raises her to her feet.  She too has been brought back from the dead!  Though Jesus warns the father not to tell anyone, he cannot contain the joy from bursting forth.

Once again the sound of crying is heard.  This time, in another place a woman in tears comes to Jesus.  It is difficult to tell what grieves her so.  Perhaps it is something within her that causes her to bow at His feet, and with her own tears she begins to wash His feet, and dry them with her hair.  Though Jesus is criticized for this woman’s actions, it is clear something wonderful has taken place.  She had entered the house a sinful worldly woman.  But now she leaves with tears of joy.  What just happened here?

There is no time to linger, as once again the sound of crying rings out.  Two sisters mourning at the loss of a brother.  And Jesus arrives much too late to save this man, a friend, not a stranger.  I am sure I see a tear on His face as well as he approached the tomb.  Others are present mourning the untimely loss of this member of the community.  In the midst of the wailing I hear Him cry out, “Lazarus! Come forth!”  And as before with the children, the dead man is raised to life and steps out of the tomb, no longer bound by the clutches of death.

Yet the crying continues and I am compelled to seek it once again.  This time it leads me to the hill outside of Jerusalem.  It is hard to approach for the crowds are there, shouting and jeering.  A mad howling mob.  I push my way to the front and am astonished by what I see.  There before me and all the rest of the crowd, three crude crosses with three men hanging on them in crucifixion.  What a commotion as the mob screams out their contempt for the one in the middle.  A small group of women stands mourning to one side.  Soldiers are casting lots for clothing at the foot of the central cross.  For a moment I study the face of the One to whom all this attention is directed.  He looks familiar, yet I’m not sure who it is.  He is so beaten and bloodied it is hard to make out.  Just then He cries out, “Father, forgive them.”  I look closer.  Wait!!  Could it be?  Yes!  It is Him!   It is the One who was in the manger.  Jesus, who raised the dead children to life, whose feet the woman had washed and who brought Lazarus out of the tomb.  It is He who hangs there – dying?  I don’t understand.  Could not the One who brought life to so many save His own?

Dazed and confused I begin to run for the sight is too much to bear.  There are thoughts I don’t understand running through my head.

I am startled once again as I come upon a single woman, kneeling before a tomb.  She is weeping.

  Could it be her child that lays here, perhaps her brother or husband?  It doesn't matter.  Jesus, the one who was able to turn tears like these into cries of joyous praise is dead.  He is no more.  Sorrow overwhelms me as I slip to my knees on the ground a distance from her.   I bow my head and begin to cry tears of my own.

But wait!  What is that sound?  I look up to see the massive stone that had been rolled against the tombs opening begin to move, slowly at first, but then more quickly.  I don’t know what is happening.  There is no one on the outside pushing the stone, it could only be someone…on…the inside.  Finally the stone is moved completely and my eyes are riveted at the entrance when what appears to be a man steps forward.  He leans down and raises the woman up.  He touches her face so tenderly.   When she sees Him, she cries out with joy and astonishment.  I look carefully at the man.  Could it be?  Yes!  Yes!  It is He!  It is Jesus!  He is not dead!  He is alive!  He who raised others to life has been able to defeat death Himself!

In my amazement and surprise, I failed to realize that the crying I have been hearing had not ceased.  Who could be weeping at a time like this?  I looked up to see that it was Jesus!  And He was looking at me!  “You are dead in your sins, my child,” He said to me.  “Come forth, come forth from your bondage to sin.  Let me set you free.”

Now I understand why the woman who had washed His feet with her tears was crying.  She had not lost a loved one whom Jesus had raised up again.  She had been dead in her sins and Jesus had set her free.  Now I understand the utter joy of the parents and the sisters as they welcomed back their loved ones.  I am alive!

When I think of the baby Jesus in the manger, I hear crying.

They are my own tears of joy, for Jesus has given me life.

Do you hear the crying too?  Is Jesus weeping for you, calling you to come forth from your death in sin?  O come, O come, come to this One in the manger and let Him raise you to new life.