Have you ever considered how odd and peculiar it is to celebrate the God of the universe as a helpless infant? Christmas presents us with an insightful paradox: the hope of the world, Alpha and Omega, lying tiny and vulnerable in a feed trough. Although nearly as recognizable as the cross, the image of the baby in the manger continues to challenge values and assumptions popular today. Christ’s humble beginnings and life of submission tell the story of a world saved through meekness rather than might.

F.W. Boreham, an early 20th century preacher, put it this way: “We fancy that God can only manage His world by big battalions ... when all the while He is doing it by beautiful babies. ... When a wrong wants righting, or a work wants doing, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants opening, God sends a baby into the world to do it.”

For God, using babies to save the world isn’t just showing off. It’s an invitation to rethink influence as a function of love rather than prominence or power. The Almighty’s son entered this world as a poor baby from an obscure family so that those whose hearts were searching for the right things could find him. The word he “made flesh” and invited followers to embody as well has had a “more powerful effect upon the minds of the people than the sword, or anything else.”

That a tender heart might shape the world better than the sword is a powerful message for a world mired in strife. Shortly after United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson was murdered, the suspect, Luigi Mangione, became a folk hero online. Mangione was found carrying a manifesto citing the “corruption and greed” of the health care industry as the motivation behind his attack on Thompson. This made it easy to depict Mangione as a modern Robin Hood bringing the fight to the evil corporate robber-barons.

But the revolution hit a snag. It turns out that Mangione’s vibe is a bit too uninspired for the leader of a rebellion. The would-be Robin Hood’s online footprint is typical of “anyone who works in tech or frequents a gym weight room.” Even his Goodreads has been reported at The New York Times, and The 4-Hour Work Week is more characteristic of a tech bro than a champion for the little guy.

As Charlie Warzel sums up Thompson’s murder in The Atlantic, “What feels to all of us like an era-defining event may ultimately be unremarkable in its brutality, in its inability to effect change, and in how quickly everyone moves on.” An angry, possibly sick young man showing little awareness of his own faults in life, gunned down another human being as the cause of his pain. Mangione appears to have succumbed to one of mankind’s oldest tropes, and the world has already begun to move on, no better for it.

People are getting tired of “fighting for what’s right.” A 2023 Pew Survey found that the vast majority of Americans believe our political leaders spend more time trying to one-up each other than solving our country’s problems. We don’t want a revolution, we just want people who can put the good of others ahead of their egos.

As I’ve written about before, the humble carpenter’s son gave rise to the most powerful civilization the world has ever known, and he didn’t murder anyone to do it. The heroes of Luke 2 are the foreigners who brought a poor baby some presents; the bad guy, Herod, was a powerful ruler killing babies. Whereas the world’s time is reckoned from the poor baby’s birth, Herod, unlike Caesar, didn’t even get a pizza chain named after him. Despite never wielding any formal power, Christ’s influence outgrew and outlasted that of any ruler or regime in history.

Yet even after two millennia, placing our hope in the Prince of Peace rather than those who promise to defeat our enemies has proven difficult and counterintuitive. Consider how often we’re told in music, media and politics to fight for this or take a stand against that. The fantasy of playing knight-errant in a modern American cultural crusade has captivated our imagination even as it’s halted our progress.

Even among Christians, there’s always someone who cites Jesus overthrowing the money tables to dress up their own vindictiveness as righteousness. By contrast, how often do these voices advocate for gentleness, mercy and grace on behalf of those who disagree with them? Without mercy and love, justice is a pagan god in Jesus’ clothes. And without compassion and tolerance, the in-your-face confrontational style of our era will get clicks, but not sustainable change in hearts and minds.

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Yet there’s nothing weak or passive about where the Christian message is going in its future crescendo. As C.S. Lewis famously wrote, Christians are like a rebel force living in “enemy-occupied territory—that is what this world is.” And “Christianity is the story of how the rightful king has landed, you might say landed in disguise, and is calling us to take part in a great campaign of sabotage.”

Ultimately, the message of Christmas is that tenderness, stillness and mildness are virtues just as much as strength and resolve. Having a soft heart does not mean you are weak or lack conviction, and it’s not the same as simply being sentimental. To be tender is simply to be responsive to the right things. As Terryl and Fiona Givens put it, “what we choose to embrace, to be responsive to, is the purest reflection of who we are and what we love.”

The counterintuitive message of God’s condescension is that sometimes the best way to influence others is by giving up power; that sometimes it’s better not to fight for what’s right, but to do what is right by turning the other cheek. Fighting for truth has its place, but are we also willing to live truth by loving, serving and forgiving enemies? If not, perhaps we’d also have missed the Jesus who lay helpless in an ancient stable because he wasn’t the kind of god we’re looking for.

Obviously, many still today want figures of power and wrath to hold their enemies accountable, but the good tidings of Christmas is that, in the end, the Prince of Peace will prevail.

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