“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb 12:2, NIV).
 
Many of us have heroes in our lives – heroes who risk their lives and save the lives of others. For me personally, my grandfather comes first on the list. Recently, he celebrated his 95th birthday. He has been through a lot for all those years. He was born in North Korea. But then he had to escape for his life to the South by crossing the river by swimming. Then he joined the army fighting the Korean War. Though he is very fragile now, when he was younger, he was quite athletic. He was healthy, strong, and fast. But one day in his 70s my grandfather said something like this: “I used to cross the river by swimming easily, but now I am afraid of crossing the street. I used to enjoy riding in the trunk of the military truck, but now I can hardly sit on the chair without a cushion. I feel frustrated and humiliated.”
 
Aging can be a humiliating experience. Raising children can be a humiliating experience. Married life can be a humiliating experience. Fighting disease can be a humiliating experience. But all these can be “means of grace” that draws us closer to our humble Savior. Our Lord Jesus Christ himself accepts humiliations. He is born a baby – totally dependent and vulnerable. He has to be fed. He has to be washed. He has to be taken care of. He has never skipped any part of human life. He doesn’t turn stones into bread. He doesn’t take a short cut. And at the end, on the cross, he again becomes totally dependent and vulnerable, totally humiliated. He accepts humiliations. But at any point in his life Jesus never loses his divine and human dignity. In some circumstances independence is important quality, but as disciples of Jesus, learning to be dependent and accept humiliations is a mark of maturity.
 
As we journey this Advent and celebrate Christmas, may we encounter Christ Jesus anew – humbled, humiliated, crucified. May we become more like Christ, our humble Messiah. As I close, let me share Missy Buchanan’s prayer, titled “Granddaughter” (Living with Purpose in a Worn–Out Body, p.12). 

 Not so long ago I carried her in my arms
and read her favorite good-night story to her.
I held her small hand as ocean waves lapped our bare feet,
making us giggle with unbelievable joy.
 
But now she steadies my stooped body as I move from bed to chair.
It’s so humbling to accept help,
especially from a granddaughter who once thought
I would always be able to chase after fireflies on a summer night.
 
God, where are you when the generational tables are turned,
when the young care for the old?
Is it your plan that we learn to serve each other and accept being served?
 
Give me grace to surrender my pride,
to delight in my granddaughter’s compassion.
Let me teach her the truth about faithfulness in the trenches of life.
In this curious season where old and young intersect,
may we look in each other’s eyes and see the eyes of Christ peering back.
Amen.