In the beginning, Jesus Christ, God the Son, in unity with the Father and Holy Spirit, created all–most, with a thought and a few words. He commands armies of angels. He judges the living and the dead. He upholds the universe by the word of His power.
And yet, He took on all the weakness of being a human. He laid aside that power. And this was not just the natural, passive weakness of men; no, it was an active, moment-to-moment rejection of His power, of doing things on His own, and of accomplishing anything by His own ability. From when He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus walked in that weakness. He worked miracles out of that weakness, He allowed Himself to be crucified in that weakness, and He was raised by the power of the Father despite that weakness.
Because the one who does the work is the one who receives the glory, and because weakness is where God’s grace, love, goodness, power, and beauty shine brightest, and because those things are true for our weakness, as well.
Advent, then, celebrates not just the arrival of God on Earth and the start of His march to victory over sin, but the beginning of the beautiful weakness that culminated at the cross. And as we reflect on that, it emboldens us to embrace our own frailty: our sins; our imperfections; our moral, physical, emotional, social, spiritual, and intellectual inadequecies. We embrace our weakness, but are not consumed by it; we boast of it, but do not focus on it; every glance at ourselves should bounce our gaze straight back to the cross.
We are, all of us, not enough. Not now, not for this stressful season, not ever. But, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses,” for, “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” and “he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God” (Heb. 4:15, John 1:14, 2 Cor. 13:4). Forget yourself as you stare into that.