On this holy night, we wonder, what kind of God are you? This is the question for the ages. You lack origins, but there is no denying your existence. We see your imprint everywhere but can’t make out your face. You won a primordial battle over the evil one, but the struggle continues for us. You control everything but manage not to be controlling it seems. What kind of God are you to hide behind mystery?

Not too soon, not too late you laid your infant self in a mangy crib resting on sawbucks. Your special mother took good care of you. She knew you were special and wondered about you herself. So did the shepherds who found you and the kings who were on their way to find you by calculating your location from a star. Everyone who seeks you out has questions about you and questions for you. You answer, and we wonder deeply at the kind of God you are. You laid down your life, lifted up on crossbeams before your prime. You visited your own grave only briefly. You lived. You died. You live. We live for you. We die trusting you. We will live forever with you. You make and keep promises. You are the promise itself, the eternal Word come in flesh like ours. On this holy night, we worship you and wonder, “What child is this? What kind of God is this?” Gloria in excelsis Deo. You are God with us.