In
the past two Christmases, God’s love and glory is made real to me in two surprising
ways.
Last
Christmas, I met God. Rather, I received an epiphany – God’s revelation through
a migrant man. Let me call him Miguel. I met Miguel at a homeless shelter in
Tijuana, Mexico, a day after he was deported. He entered the US twenty-two
years ago by walking along the San Diego beach and simply crossed the border.
He found honest living as car mechanic, eventually owning a body shop and
providing for his wife and two beautiful daughters. One day, he was accosted by
the police and was immediately deported for not having immigration papers. He
told me of his plans to reenter the country as soon as he could. I asked if he
understood the great risk of being caught and branded a criminal, never to have
any chance of entering the US again. He looked at me, with tears swelling up
his reddened eyes, and said: “I have to do it. I want to be with my family.
They are my home.” Looking at his teary eyes, I encountered God. It struck me
that God embraces a similar risk to be with you and me, willing to pay the cost
to be with us whom God loves.
This
Christmas, God is revealed through the death of my young cousin Thy. She knew
the risks of opting for an
experimental treatment that could accelerate her demise. Yet, she embraced
them, because she wanted her young boys to have the best chance of having a
healthy mother; she wanted her husband to have the best chance of a healthy
wife. She chose life and what she deemed best for her family, even as her own
life was slipping away. In her death, I encounter Christ who sacrificed
to give his best for those he loves. It’s been almost a month since her
passing, and her husband had this to share, “Thy is so beautiful and very much
with the boys and I every moment.”
Today,
we celebrate a love born in the crib and continue to the cross. Jesus, Word of
God, Who is God, became one of us. He built his house next to ours, lived among
us, suffered with us, for us, and to save us. He came as a child, a poor child,
born in a humble manger. He came to be with us, to sacrifice for us because he
loves us. In Miguel, God reveals to me a love willing to accept all costs to be
with those God loves. In my cousin Thy, Christ is revealed as love beyond
tragic loss and death. When we look at a person who is poor (or migrant), who
loves, who forgives, who sacrifices genuinely, we see God. This is the glory of
God’s humility. The light of God’s love.
What if God wants to
surprise us in humble and unexpected ways, revealing Godself in the least of
those we interact during these festive days? What if God desires to encounter
us in our poverty and humility?
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