The Tenderness of Christmas

When Jesus's older cousin John the Baptist was born, his father, Zechariah, sang a song of praise.  Because of his initial doubt in the promise of his son's birth, he had been mute throughout his wife's pregnancy, and now at the fulfillment of the promise, his faith brimming, he was ready to sing.

His song proclaims God's mercy.  How fitting for Zechariah to sing of God's mercy in the face of his own recent doubt and its consequences; now his voice is restored and he has received a huge gift, a son. He is ready to sing.

My favorite part of the song is this charge to his new baby:
"And you, my son, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
  for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for Him,
to give His people the knowledge of salvation
  through the forgiveness of sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
  by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
  and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace" (Luke 1: 76-79).

I love that John's teaching on salvation through forgiveness of sins--rather than salvation by works--reveals the tender mercy of God.  I love that it's not just mercy, but tender mercy. We are tender with lovers or tender with children.  Tenderness is delicate, the way you handle an exquisite flower so it won't lose its petals, the brushing of fingertips on a cheek, tucking wispy hair behind a child's ear, the soft press of lips to a forehead.  Our God has tenderness towards us.  Tender mercy.

And this tender mercy, this gift of grace, manifests itself in the light of Christmas. We see the lights of houses--beautiful, happy, celebratory.  And we see the delicate flicker of a candle, perhaps more in tune with the tender light Zechariah is proclaiming: "the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death."  Even though such a light, a rising sun, is huge--like a trumpet blast--I keep thinking of the sweet light that goes with tender mercy--the softness of a candle--when we all look our most beautiful.  The peace and relaxation of candlelight.

I guess that's why this light goes so perfectly with the birth of a baby--a savior, yes! Trumpet blast!--but the tender mercy, the humble manger, the innocence and purity of a baby.  The sun.  And the candle.

The light from heaven--magnanimous to save, yet intimate to individually light our path of peace.