Born to a Woman

We’ve all heard it: “God’s timing is perfect.”

These are usually the words of well-intended friends, meant to point us toward the proverbial silver lining in the midst of chaos. We hear the words and try our best to smile politely, maybe nod understandingly, do something (anything) that will pass for socially acceptable behavior so we can get away as fast as possible, exhale the breath we’ve been holding tightly in our chests, and allow our eyes to roll all the way to the back of our heads. Platitudes: they find us at the most inopportune moments. It seems the best we can do is let them wash over us, as empty words are wont to do.

But the thing about platitudes is, although we hate to admit it, they’re often rooted in some form of truth. Money really can’t buy happiness. Tomorrow really is another day. And God’s timing, as it turns out, really is perfect.

That’s exactly the point the apostle Paul was trying to make when he wrote, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman.”

Between the angelic announcement of His birth, the astrological marker of His kingship, and the supernatural nature of His conception, it’s easy to forget Jesus was “born of woman.” We don’t often think of the earthiness of it all: the piercing cries that come with the overwhelming pain of natural childbirth; the scent of sweat and blood and placenta; the strain of muscles stretching and contracting. All ordinary markers of what it means to be a human. And while throughout the Advent season we are prone to focus on those traits that mark Jesus’ divinity, in those three little words—“born of woman”—we are reminded of the most astonishing part of it all: God became human.

In an act of extravagant condescension, unimaginable humility, and complete identification, God “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant” (Philippians 2:7), with all its accompanying circumstances, so we might be joined to Him forever, adopted “as sons.” And that changes everything.