God is not a superhero.  Cape exchanged for swaddling clothes, he does give us the image of strength.  He cannot leap over tall buildings.  His parents can’t even find a place to give birth to him.

He will cry out for help before the crowds do.  He will not be waving, taking pictures and signing autographs.  He will not be kissing babies– because he is one.  He will need to be held while we sing, “He’s got the whole world in his hands.”

Our praise doubles as a lullaby.  This is the God who can be sung to sleep, who gets fussy without a nap.

But, what kind of God is this?  What kind of God does this?  Using a woman instead a phone booth.  No gadgets, no fancy car. Just her swollen feet, Jesus travels by way of a waddling woman.  He does not make an entrance but instead, waits to be born.

He is not faster than a locomotive and he cannot stop one if you find yourself tied to the tracks.  Many complained that he could not stop the Roman Empire.  He is not who they expected, not who they’d hoped for.  When they thought of the Savior, he is not who they had in mind.  “There must be some mistake.  Let us look for another.”

No x- ray vision, the self- proclaimed “light of the world” will squint when he enters it.  And people will not see him coming.  Because when God comes to town, God is not aiming to merely save the day– but the world.