The Gospels provide two nativity scenes. Luke’s gospel tells of humble shepherds heeding the instruction of an angel and worshipping the Christ Child as He lay in a manger in Bethlehem. Matthew’s gospel tells of reputable magi following a star to Bethlehem and worshipping the Child in a house. But I would like you to imagine a different nativity scene. Picture the brightest, strongest, most creative, most charitable people you can think of who have tried to solve the world’s problems — people like professors, philosophers, religious leaders, composers, authors, artists, scientists, generals, business executives, entrepreneurs, and kings, prime ministers, and presidents; think of Nobel prize winners. Think of the wise, powerful, and noble of this world. Can you picture such an assembly? Now, picture them on their knees encircling the manger, worshipping the newborn king. Wild imagination? Currently yes, but ultimately no. What this assembly of people have valiantly tried but miserably failed to do, this Child will accomplish.
Such a scene reminds me of an incident from the life of Jesus. One day His disciples were arguing over who would be the greatest in the coming kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ. If you know anything about The Twelve, it is surprising that any of them thought they would be that person. Perhaps they had in mind fleeting glimpses of some of the kinds of individuals listed above — people who do great things. Jesus’ answer showed how unlike the world’s system His system would be. He said, “If anyone desires to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all.” Then to press His point further, “He took a little child and set him in the midst of them. And when He had taken him in His arms, He said to them, ‘Whoever receives one of these little children in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me, receives not Me but Him who sent Me” (Mark 9:35-36). A child silences the argument over greatness.
Imagine a nativity scene in that light — a Child placed in the midst of the “great” of this world, each of whom has either fought for or earned a place in the annals of human greatness, yet each having ultimately failed to stop the curse or stem the tide of human misery and depravity with words, armies, or wealth. That is what this Child came to do.
Imagine that collection of brilliant and creative minds, ingenuity, eloquence, and shear power, kneeling before an infant who cannot even speak, but whose unintelligible sounds come from the same voice that said, “Let there be . . . and it was so;” the same voice that cursed the serpent and cursed the ground because of rebellion. The most powerful of this world cannot reverse what this Child has already done. Their only hope is to bow in worship and to believe this Child who is “the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1:24). Surrounded by such human brilliance and greatness, this Child appears weak and insignificant, but “the weakness of God is stronger than men” (1 Cor. 1:25).
What an imaginary scene this is in our contemporary setting where the collective strength, wisdom and wealth of worldly man defies God and acts like King Herod (Matt. 2:3). But this imaginary scene will happen one day (Phil. 2:9-10; Rev. 21:24). Until then, be comforted by the remembrance that those who actually did gather at that nativity so long ago were not the wise, powerful, and noble. They were people like us — the foolish, weak, insignificant, and despised by the measuring tools of this world. The beauty of that is this — in the nativity of Jesus only One gets the glory because all glory belongs to Him, but we get the benefit.
No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found.
He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love.