This Christmas I am struck by the perfectly appropriate circumstances of Jesus birth. No, not the pretty creche scenes we often see. But a bug filled stable, full of lice-ridden straw. Barnyard animals crowd around, donkeys, sheep, possibly chickens, but most definitely crowded with animal dung. As the bottle flies circle around, a young woman gives birth. We all know what's that like: it's sweaty and ugly. It's bloody and slimey. When the baby finally comes, the chord is cut and there's screaming and more blood.
How amazing is this that God would allow his son to be born in the basest of circumstances. That God completely gave over his son to a complete imersion into a desease filled and ugly world. Does it get any worse than this? No probably not.
Welcome to our mess Jesus.