Perhaps one of the most profound messages of the Scripture is tucked away in a single verse in Matthew. At this time of the year, the Christmas message is adorned with ribbons and lights and candles and
carols. Yet, the real message of Christmas is an eternal one. It is the story of a promise fulfilled in a baby boy on a Bethlehem night over 2000 years ago.

“Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel,
which being interpreted is, God with us.”

Have you ever really thought about that? God with us! God is not just standing near. He is not in a lofty heavenly place where even a split second is needed for Him to come to us. He is with us! An old song says it well, “He’s as close as the mention of His name.”

The message of Christmas is simple: We are not alone. You are not alone. I am not alone. He is with us. God Himself, robed in flesh, walked among men and women from an infant to full manhood. Three days
after what looked to be a tragic end became a triumphant victory as He came forth from the grave alive forevermore. And what He purchased for us with His coming-with His death, His burial, and His resurrection-is the promise that we are not alone and never will be. He Himself said, “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” Some folks may assume the “amen” was for the end of the book-but maybe it was to make us realize that He is with us to the end of the world-and
there is nothing after that we need to know. There are no “if, ands, or buts” about it. He is with us always-even unto the end-period. It finishes there.

As our country stands on the brink of war and there is an uneasiness in all of us as the threat of terrorists acts have been brought to home to American soil, we are not alone; He is Emmanuel, God with us.

As the holidays come and in the midst of hustling and bustling days of parties and preparations and all sorts of activities, even then, we are not alone. He is Emmanuel, God with us.

In the quiet hospital room, the silence broken only by the steady beep of the various machines that our monitoring a life-there He is Emmanuel, God with us.

In the classroom, full of boisterous children, anxiously anticipating the holiday vacation; the teacher looking forward to a few days of rest; He is there; Emmanuel, God with us.

Going about the business of the day, pushing a vacuum cleaner, dusting, cleaning, cooking; the solitary housewife may not always be aware of the Christmas gift she possesses all year long. She is not alone. He is there; Emmanuel, God with us. In the hallowed halls of corporate America; from the mail room busy-
ness to the corporation president’s plush office-and everywhere in between-we are not alone. He is there; Emmanuel, God with us.

On the construction site in a city; on the back forty acres of a rural farm; wherever humankind is; He is there; Emmanuel, God with us. And, in the midst of the holiday madness that Christmas has become for
some, He is there, too. He is Emmanuel, God with us.

Several years ago, Max Lucado, a prolific Christian writer of our time, wrote the following about the Christmas story. I close this article with his words-to remind us-that He is God with us; and that He keeps His promises!

… In reality, that particular moment was like none other. For through that segment of time a spectacular thing occurred. God became a man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself and placed her most precious one in a human womb. The Omnipotent, in one instant, made himself breakable. He who had been spirit became pierceable. He who was larger than the universe became an embryo. And he who sustains the world with a word chose to be dependent upon the nourishment of a young girl. God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created. God was given eyebrows, elbows, two kidneys, and a spleen. He stretched against the walls and
floated in the amniotic fluids of his mother. God had come near…

For thirty-three years he would feel everything you and I have ever felt. He felt weak. He grew weary. He was afraid of failure. He was susceptible to wooing women. He got colds, burped, and had body odor.
His feelings got hurt. His feet got tired. And his head ached. To think of Jesus in such a light is-well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn’t it? It’s not something we like to do; it’s uncomfortable. It is much
easier to keep the humanity out of the incarnation. Clean the manure from around the manger. Wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Pretend he never snored or blew his nose or hit his thumb with a hammer. He’s
easier to stomach that way. There is something about keeping him divine that keeps him distant, packaged, predictable. But don’t do it. For heaven’s sake, don’t. Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him into the mire and muck of our world. For only if we let him in can he pull us out. Listen to him. “Love your neighbor” was spoken by a man whose neighbors tried to kill him.

The challenge to leave family for the gospel was issued by one who kissed his mother goodbye in the doorway. “Pray for those who persecute you” came from the lips that would soon be begging God to forgive his murderers. “I am with you always” are the words of a God who in one instant did the impossible to make it all possible for you and me. It all happened in a moment. In one moment a most remarkable moment. The Word became flesh. There will be another. The world will see another
instantaneous transformation. You see, in becoming man, God made it possible for man to see God. When Jesus went home he left the back door open. As a result, “we will all be changed-in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.”

He is Emmanuel, God with us. And someday, perhaps sooner than any of us can imagine, we will be with Him!