Faith Like the Infant Jesus

Without a doubt, Advent and the Christmas season is my favorite time of year. There is so much joy in the air. Christmas lights line the streets, and candles in windows bring warmth when the weather gets cold. Hope and anticipation are brewing in every heart, and the first snowfall creates laughter and the best hot chocolate. Friends and family gather from near and far to be with one another. And don’t even get me started on how much I love Christmas music! 

One thing in particular that I love is the abundance of Nativity scenes that pop up in yards, under Christmas trees, and often on the altar in our churches. During Advent, these depictions feel like physical manifestations of my hopeful anticipation. I can’t wait for Christmas Day, when they will place the little baby Jesus into the manger and know that our world is saved. 

However, I have always had an interesting relationship with this Infant Jesus. In our scripture, our songs, and our conversations this child is referred to as a “helpless babe” and yet, He is fully God. He needs to rely on others, He is defenseless, and while in the manger, He is physically without adequate shelter from the harsh world outside. We are called to be like God, but why would I want to be helpless? 

I replace the word helpless with vulnerable, and that is where I find my call. When I think of the call to be like Jesus, I usually think of the 30-year-old Jesus––interacting with people, showing love, and spreading the Good News. But when I think of the Infant Jesus as vulnerable, I see Him as a model for my life. It isn’t easy, but I’m trying to be more like Him in both my daily life and my prayer life.

You see, vulnerability is really hard for me. I’m in my fourth year at BC, and I’m only just beginning to truly be vulnerable with the people around me. The only reason that I started this journey is because it was for my senior capstone class and my grade depended on it. I’m now seeing that my grade really doesn’t depend on my vulnerability, but my fullness of life with my family, my friends, and my faith does depend on it. 

I’ve gone through ups and downs in my faith life, and recently I wondered why I haven’t had as fruitful a relationship with God in the last few years as I once did. But I realized that just as my lack of vulnerability with my friends led to a lack of deep friendships, my lack of vulnerability with God has led to a lack of fullness in faith. 

It’s hard to dive into vulnerability. I know this from my own experience. It’s not a switch you can just turn on one day and that’s that. I stumble along this path, sometimes with success and sometimes not, practicing my best the whole way. But the journey is possible. I spend my time in prayer trying to present Him with my full range of human emotions as they come. I try my best to not hide myself from Him, whether that is going to confession to admit where I’ve stumbled, relying on Him in my times of need, or celebrating my joys with Him. 

I’m trying to open myself and be vulnerable with Him not only so I can fully experience His love, but also so that I can hear His call. When I put up walls, they block out His words, but in the silences, God speaks. He calls to me when I walk the reservoir by myself, or when I’m baking alone in the kitchen, or when I’m taking a moment to pause and pray. And the boundless joy that I have felt by taking down my walls has been nothing like I’ve experienced before. 

I’m still learning and trying to figure out how to do this best, and I am nowhere near perfect. But as we move into a new liturgical year, my resolution is to be more like the Infant Jesus, totally vulnerable in my humanness, and to let the joy of Jesus Christ overflow my life.