When David ran from King Saul, to escape Jerusalem, he crossed the valley of the shadow of death. Sitting on the western side of the city, the danger in the valley was not its location nor the amount of sunlight which shone there, but the idol worship performed in that location for decades. It’d become a place of death because the Israelites, who’d been freed miraculously from Egypt, who’d crossed the Red Sea and the Jordan River on dry land, who’d been given the covenant of the promised Messiah, set it aside to crucify their children. Infants died to satisfy the lust of the demonic, their innocent lives destroyed, futures snuffed out, and yet not one of them, not one single life saved anyone who offered it up.
Forgiveness would not come from the death of these children, nor from any other form of idol worship which the people took on themselves. It would take the death of a child, grown into a man, some thousands of years later to whiten the souls of the people and anyone who would repent and call on His name. A child born Messiah, whose birth would cause the enemy to destroy yet more children.
That man, Jesus Christ, mourns for those children. Every young soul which Herod killed to try to destroy him is known by Him. And every child who died in the valley of the shadow of death. And every child which has been born and lived and grown hereafter. Every child is known by Him. In the beginning the Word created all things, man and woman, who were commanded to reproduce and multiply and have children, all of them, every single person ever born created in His image and His likeness, created like the Father from who all fatherhood gets its name, breathed life into by the Spirit of God who resurrects the dead.
Would that we valued each other to this extent. Would that we stared that person in the eye, that precious child which smiles at us wherever we are and thought of them with this value. That we made Christmas, not about the gift giving, but the gift given, when God above sent His only Son as an infant, a baby, to a mother and a father, who would raise Him to become the Savior of the world.
Instead of a King who’d ride in and run the Romans out of town, God sent a baby, knowing how many babies men had killed.
“Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men, was exceeding wroth, and sent forth, and slew all the children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying, In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not. But when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, Saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel: for they are dead which sought the young child's life.” (Matthew 2:16-20)
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
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