To my relief, I realized I had been wrong. When we were hopelessly lost, and could not reach God by our own efforts, He stepped into the midst of our sin to save us. That insight sparked a new way to pray—what I call incarnational prayer. I picture the problem or person I’m praying for in my mind as another smelly stable needing the birth of our Lord. Since He gave up the splendor of heaven for the sinfulness of earth, I know that the filth of sin does not repulse Him. He is willing, amazingly, to come into the very worst places. So that’s what I ask for: Jesus, please come. Be born into the midst of Charley’s heart. We need Christmas, Emmanuel, right here, once again.

With incarnational prayer, I don’t have to be strong enough to lift up the situation. I don’t have to do anything except call and watch for Jesus�?arrival. For generations, the prophets predicted the coming of the Messiah, and the Israelites hoped and believed. So I hope and believe as I wait for the promise to be fulfilled once again.

The incarnation doesn’t necessarily come quickly, however. The Israelites must have wondered why their redemption took so long. During the exile of their people, for instance, I’m sure they thought, Now, surely, Messiah will come! But He didn’t.

About a year after I began praying for Charley, my own adult son discarded the values with which he had been raised and turned away from God. At home, he committed petty thefts, which he later justified. He floated from address to address, never bothering to keep in touch. He regularly broke the law—and my heart. Now he has a job and an apartment, but I seldom hear from him.

I get as impatient as the Israelites must have been. I have to work to remember that God’s timing is not the same as mine. Regularly, I must die to my own ideas about the outcome and hold tightly to my trust in Him. But during these long periods of waiting, I remember that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him (Ro. 8:28). I try to allow God to help me mature, believing His promise that as I rejoice in my sufferings, they will produce perseverance, character, and hope. “And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts�?(Ro. 5:5).

I find many opportunities to pray incarnational prayers. The family alcoholic, the friend’s divorce, the twisting and turning of a difficult relationship—many “stables�?await the birth of Jesus into their midst. In each case I do the same thing. Because the burden is too heavy for them and too heavy for me as an intercessor, I simply invite Jesus to come. What comfort to know that nothing is too hard, too hopeless, too filthy to keep Him away.

I know what a difference He makes. My life has been transformed by His birth in me. I’ve watched as His presence has redeemed other lives, too. I’ve seen His power to take the mess left by evil and turn it into good. So I pray, simply, that He will do it again and again.

Jesus, when I can’t lift a request up to You, I pray instead that You would come down. Two thousand years ago, You were not overwhelmed by the corruption of this world, but came and lived among us. I watch, like a shepherd, for Your birth into the midst of this misery. If the sin of the whole world couldn’t defeat You, I know the sin in this small corner of it cannot either. You came and redeemed us. Please come again and redeem. I want to celebrate Christmas again. Amen.

 

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About the author:
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LAURA J. HUNT is director of adult education at Milan Free Methodist Church in Milan, Michigan. Most people would be surprised to know that she grew up in Belgium and speaks French.