“This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Luke 2:12

Have you ever  asked yourself why Jesus was born in a manger? 

I think it’s a question that we should ask ourselves more often. 

The Bible doesn’t stop to explain it in detail. There’s no long reasoning given. No justification. It simply tells us what happened — that Mary laid Him in a manger because there was no room.

And yet, that small detail has carried meaning for centuries.

A manger was not symbolic by design. It wasn’t chosen for effect. It was simply what was available when everything else was closed. A feeding trough. A place meant for animals. Common. Unremarkable. Easily overlooked.

That’s what makes it matter.

God did not arrange a setting that felt worthy of Him. He allowed His Son to enter the world in a place that reflected the reality of humanity — limited, imperfect, and often unprepared.

Jesus wasn’t born into comfort. He was born into need.

This is where we see something tender about God. He does not enter the world demanding space. He enters where space is offered — even if it is small and humble and far from ideal.

“The manger wasn’t chosen because it was holy. It became holy because He was there.”

In choosing a manger, God revealed the kind of Savior He was sending. Not one who would stand above humanity, but one who would step fully into it. Into vulnerability. Into dependence. Into the ordinary conditions of human life.

The manger tells us that God is not distant from our reality. He is not offended by our lack. He is not waiting for perfection before drawing near.

He meets us as we are.

In the moments when there is no room.

In the seasons that feel improvised and fragile.

In lives that don’t look impressive or complete.

This is the humanity of the manger.

God did not arrive shielded from discomfort. He arrived exposed. Needing care. Needing warmth. Needing to be held.

And in doing so, He showed us what love looks like.

Love comes low.

Love comes close.

Love does not insist on being honored.

The manger quietly reminds us that God is found not only in the sacred spaces we prepare — but in the ordinary places we never planned for.

And maybe that is what God was showing us all along.

That nothing is too humble for His presence.

And no one is too small to be met by Him.

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” John 1:14

With thanks for this year and hope for the next—may it be gentle, bright, and full of meaning.

Until next time,