Click here to watch our fifth storybook entry! Did you find “baby Jesus” the other times? Keep your eye’s open and see if you can spot him today!

Also, did you find “baby Jesus” on Sunday?! Make sure to try and find him next Sunday when you go to Grow Zone!

Today we want to get you thinking!

Yesterday we read about the angels coming to the Shepherds and telling them about the good news of Jesus. The angels said that Jesus was bringing peace to our world. Our challenge for you today is to think for yourself and ask any 2 people the following question…

When do you feel the most at peace?

Pause where you are and ask God to open your eyes to see Him today.

Specifically ask for Him to show you are loved and enough just as your are.

The story could have been written differently. If we were directing this scene, we’d probably add some drama, some celestial lights, angelic choirs visible to everyone, a palace delivery room with the best of everything. But God’s script is different. Instead of a palace, there’s a stable.

Instead of a golden cradle, there’s a feeding trough. Instead of royal attendants, there are farm animals providing the soundtrack. Caesar Augustus issues a decree, and the whole Roman world scrambles to comply. Meanwhile, God issues His own decree, not through political power, but through the contractions of a teenage girl far from home. While the empire flexes its muscles and counts its subjects, God slips into the world as one of those subjects, uncounted by heaven’s standards but very much counted by Rome’s.

Mary and Joseph arrive in Bethlehem exhausted from the journey. She’s nine months pregnant, riding on a donkey over rough roads. Every bump must have been agony. And when they finally reach Bethlehem, there’s no room. No space for the Creator of space itself. No place for the One who made every place.

So they end up in a stable. Not because God couldn’t arrange something better, but because this is exactly how God chose to enter our world, at the bottom, not the top. In humility, not luxury. In vulnerability, not power.

READ

Let’s take a moment to read Luke 2:1-7:

“In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. 

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.”

REFLECT

When Luke tells the story of Jesus’ birth, it starts with something ordinary: a government order that made everyone travel for a census. For Mary and Joseph, that meant a long, uncomfortable trip to Bethlehem. It wasn’t glamorous, it was crowded, inconvenient, and probably stressful. That’s a lot like how life feels in high school sometimes: schedules packed with classes, sports, and activities, or feeling like you’re just another face in the crowd. But God was working right in the middle of those ordinary details, showing that His plan isn’t stopped by busyness or chaos.

And then comes the surprise: the Savior of the world is born, not in a palace or hospital, but in a stable, laid in a manger because there was no room in the inn. God doesn’t wait for ideal circumstances to enter the world. He comes right into the mess. 

That’s shocking humility. It’s like expecting the star quarterback to show up in the championship game, but instead he comes in as the water boy. God chose to enter the world in weakness and ordinariness, reminding us that His power shows up in unexpected places. Advent is about slowing down to notice that God’s glory often comes in the simple, overlooked moments.

And that’s actually really good news for us, because our lives can feel messy too. None of us have it all figured out, we’re not living in palaces; most of us are just trying to get through the day, find a place to belong, or catch a break. But the story of Jesus’ birth shows that God doesn’t wait for us to have perfect grades, perfect friendships, or perfect lives before He shows up. He comes right into our “stable-like” situations. He shows up in the stress, the exhaustion, the times when it feels like there’s no space for Him, and He meets us there.

This is love expressed through radical humility. Jesus didn’t arrive demanding the best accommodations. He arrived accepting whatever was available. He didn’t come with an entourage insisting on special treatment. He came as a baby who needed everything, who depended completely on others, who was vulnerable to cold and hunger and every human need.

The King took the form of a servant before He could even walk. That’s the kind of love we’re celebrating this Advent.

• How does the humility of Jesus’ birth challenge your understanding of power and greatness?

• In what ways are you tempted to wait for “ideal circumstances” before following God, and what does the Incarnation teach you about that?

PRAY

Lord Jesus, You entered our world not with power and splendor but in humility and vulnerability. Thank You for not waiting for perfect circumstances to come to us, but for meeting us in the mess and chaos of real life. Help us receive the kind of humble service You modeled from Your very first breath. Help us notice Your presence in the humble, overlooked places of our lives. Amen.

READ

The story could have been written differently. If we were directing this scene, we'd probably add some drama—celestial lights, angelic choirs visible to everyone, a palace delivery room with the best of everything. But God's script is different. Instead of a palace, there's a stable. Instead of a golden cradle, there's a feeding trough. Instead of royal attendants, there are farm animals providing the soundtrack.

Caesar Augustus issues a decree, and the whole Roman world scrambles to comply. Meanwhile, God issues His own decree—not through political power, but through the contractions of a teenage girl far from home. While the empire flexes its muscles and counts its subjects, God slips into the world as one of those subjects, uncounted by heaven's standards but very much counted by Rome's.

Mary and Joseph arrive in Bethlehem exhausted from the journey. She's nine months pregnant, riding on a donkey over rough roads. Every bump must have been agony. And when they finally reach Bethlehem, there's no room. No space for the Creator of space itself. No place for the One who made every place.

So they end up in a stable. Not because God couldn't arrange something better, but because this is exactly how God chose to enter our world—at the bottom, not the top. In humility, not luxury. In vulnerability, not power.

Let’s take a moment to read Luke 2:1-7:

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

REFLECT

The baby is born, and Mary wraps Him in strips of cloth. These same hands that will one day calm storms are now small enough to fit in her palm. The voice that will speak worlds into existence makes His first sounds as a cry—the same sound every newborn makes, the universal announcement that says, "I'm here, I'm alive, and I need you."

Luke tells us Mary "placed him in a manger" like it's the most natural thing in the world. A manger—a feeding trough for animals—becomes the first bed for the Bread of Life. It's almost too on the nose, isn't it? The One who will say "I am the bread of life" sleeps where animals eat. From the very beginning, Jesus is positioned to feed hungry souls.

Here's what strikes me about this scene: the Incarnation happens in the midst of real life. There's government bureaucracy (a census), economic hardship (no room at the inn), physical exhaustion (that journey), and probably some fear (giving birth far from home with minimal support). God doesn't wait for ideal circumstances to enter the world. He comes right into the mess.

And that's good news for us, because our lives are messy too. We don't have it all together. We're not in palaces; most of us are just trying to find a place to rest. But the Incarnation says God doesn't wait for us to clean up before He shows up. He comes to us in our stable-like circumstances, in our exhaustion, in our moments when there seems to be no room.

The humility of Jesus' birth challenges everything we think about power and greatness. In our world, greatness means climbing up, getting more, being seen, having the best. But God's kingdom works differently. Greatness means coming down, giving up, serving others, choosing the manger over the mansion.

This is love expressed through radical humility. Jesus didn't arrive demanding the best accommodations. He arrived accepting whatever was available. He didn't come with an entourage insisting on special treatment. He came as a baby who needed everything, who depended completely on others, who was vulnerable to cold and hunger and every human need.

The King took the form of a servant before He could even walk. That's the kind of love we're celebrating this Advent.

RESPOND

Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.

• How does the humility of Jesus' birth challenge your understanding of power and greatness?

• What "stable-like" circumstances in your life might God be using to reveal His presence?

• In what ways are you tempted to wait for "ideal circumstances" before following God, and what does the Incarnation teach you about that?

REST

Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:

Lord Jesus, You entered our world not with power and splendor but in humility and vulnerability. Thank You for not waiting for perfect circumstances to come to us, but for meeting us in the mess and chaos of real life. Help us to embrace the kind of humble service You modeled from Your very first breath. Give us eyes to see Your presence in the humble, overlooked places of our lives. Amen.