Magnets and Christmas
“Why are you writing about my magnets?” my son asked with squinty-eyes and raised lip, as if the words tasted foul, the picture of teenage contempt.
“ ‘Cause there’s a spiritual parallel,” I replied casually, glancing up.
“Like what,” he spluttered incredulously, half-laughing, half-choking on his mother’s latest foolishness.
I cackled interiorly. Gotcha! I thought. Pushing back my chair from the computer, I turned to look in his eyes.
“Magnets repel when two like poles face each other, and if you want to make those ends touch, it takes a lot of force to overcome the repulsion.”
Duuuh, said his body language.
“So,” I shrugged, leaning back with my cup of tea, “it’s the same with Jesus and the Incarnation.”
“Why?” A hint of curiosity crept into his voice.
“Yeah, well, God can’t abide the presence of sin, right? They are polar opposites, right? One can’t abide the presence of the other.”
He shrugged and sat down, digging deeply into the bag of Chex Mix at my side.
“So, how was it possible for God to come down to a filthy place, live joyfully among sinful people, and then, on the cross, become sin for us?”
He didn’t answer, but sat popping cereal into his mouth waiting to see where this would go.
“What kind of incredible force does Jesus have that he was able to overcome the strength of that repulsion to become the very opposite of his own nature?”
“Umm. Luff,” he gargled, chewing, swallowing, and talking at the same time.
“Yeah,” I smiled, scenes of my son’s childhood flashing through my mind. “Love. It’s the strongest force there is.”
