Christmas Incarnation
December 2019
Volume 1 | Issue 11
Dear Reader,
Merry Christmas!
Welcome to our final issue of Inklings & Inspiration for 2019. As you finish your shopping or finals or general holiday mayhem, we hope you can take a moment to pause and reflect on the wondrous mystery of the season: that God came down to humanity.
All of our offerings this month explore the meaning and lasting legacy of the Incarnation, such as Callie’s poem by that name. Our guest voice, musician and worship pastor Randy Bonifield, reminds us to enter in fully to the familiar story in “Christmas as Response.” And “The Incarnation: When God Changed His Point of View, and Other Notes on Narrative Distance” takes us on a journey to find the God who wants to be known.
Thank you for joining us this year. It has been a pleasure to explore with you ideas about God and the arts. Look for our next issue in February. Until then, may the joy of the Savior be yours.
by Kelli Sallman
Thirteen years ago, I watched a divine moment of literary brilliance: Harold Crick brushed his teeth up and down and back and forth, counting strokes as he did so, and began hearing the distinct voice of a female, British narrator detailing his thoughts and actions. He thought he had gone crazy; his literature professor wanted to know, comedy or tragedy?
We all know that narrators have a nasty habit of dipping themselves right into a person’s brain matter and pushing around all that spongey stuff for their own benefit. But a transcendent, third-person narrator who makes her presence inside a character heard? And a character who interacts with his author on the pages of his own book? Absurd.
Except that this same plot line was in one of the first stories ever. It was outlined and approved by a committee of three and launched into production in eternity past. In that story, the transcendent author wanted to be found. He was, in fact, the one who came looking for characters that had gotten lost at the turn from chapter two to chapter three. Many have thought this author’s premise farcical too. But really, it was just a matter of extreme narrative distance, the most immanence possible, an author who went beyond seeing into everyone to become an author everyone could see.
by Callie Johnson
Prologue
I believe
God is a poet
taking broken, mangled beauty—pieces of human existence—and giving them flesh, that the soul may see itself reflected.
Yes, God is a poet who long ago set the stage for an epic work even Homer can’t contest. He inhaled intention and exhaled existence and the lights are about to rise as step by step, word by word, stanza by stanza, God incarnates.
One
In the beginning, God.
That’s how it all begins. Perfect paradise, uncovered bodies, reflecting the Maker’s delight. All in harmony.
But a shadow is coming.
A lingering question prickles their minds: What if? They answer. And so fruit brings forth fruit and a new feeling like the earth fallen away so the stomach is free falling. We call it shame; they call it fear. God calls their names, but they remain silent, covering their bodies, trying to blend in with a world they’ve destined for decay. They see their naked perfection and think it the flaw, so they try to disguise it as growth.
by Randy Bonifield
Have you ever considered what you might do should God reveal himself to you in some unmistakable manner? If you knew without a shadow of a doubt you were in his presence, face to face, what do you imagine you would do? I am confident of this: you would immediately respond in some way. It might be a response of dumbfounded awe that leaves your mouth hanging open. It might be to fall on your face in fear. It might be to turn and run. But of one thing I am certain, the moment would demand a response.
Although I would never suggest that the physical manifestation of God will make an appearance in your local house of worship this Advent season, I do believe that God is making himself known there. And when God makes himself known, it demands a response.