Picture Christmas morning. As a matter of fact. Picture yourself as a child on Christmas morning. This will add a sense of wonder.

 You spot a beautifully wrapped box under the tree with your name on it. The wrapping is exquisite, and clearly someone spent time making this special. The size and weight suggest something significant. Your mind races with possibilities. You carefully unwrap it, anticipation building, and then… It’s not what you expected at all. 

Maybe it’s practical socks when you hoped for something a bit more exciting. A simple tool when you imagine something luxurious. Your face tries to hide the flicker of disappointment.

But then– days or weeks later– you realize this gift was exactly what you needed. Those socks kept your feet warm during unexpected cold weather. That simple tool solved a problem you didn’t even know you had yet. The giver knew something you didn’t: what you needed mattered more than what you wanted.

On that first Christmas, the world received a gift wrapped in the most unexpected packaging imaginable. Humanity was waiting for a Messiah. Humanity was expecting a conquering king, a political deliverer, someone who would arrive with power and spectacle. Instead, God gave them a baby. In a stable. Born to a teenage girl. Laid in a feeding trough.

If disappointment had a sound, it would have been the collective sigh of Israel: “This? This is the promised one?”

But, read Philippians 2:5-8. Paul describes what theologians call the “kenosis.” Christ’s self-emptying. Notice what Paul is actually showing us: this wasn’t God becoming less; this was God demonstrating more than we ever imagined.

Verse 6: “Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God”

Christ possessed everything. He was the gift-giver who lacked nothing.

Verse 7: “But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men”

• Here’s the wrapping that confused everyone: The omnipotent God chose dependence. The eternal Word became a baby who couldn’t speak. The Creator of the universe needed a young mother to nurse Him, change Him, protect Him from Herod’s sword.

Verse 8: “And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross”

The gift wasn’t just the manger; it was the cross. Weakness culminating in crucifixion.

But here’s what the world didn’t understand until later: this wasn’t weakness at all. It was the ultimate display of strength.

• A powerful king can conquer nations. Only an omnipotent God can set aside His omnipotence.
• Anyone can demand respect through force. Only infinite love can demand nothing while giving everything.
• Earthly strength protects itself. Divine strength sacrifices itself.

God wrapped Himself in weakness because that was exactly what we needed. We didn’t need another powerful ruler. History had plenty of those. We needed someone who could reach us in our own weakness, who could sympathize with our infirmities (Hebrews 4:15), who could bridge the gap between God’s holiness and human frailty.

The baby in the manger was God saying, “I will meet you where you are.”

Now here’s the challenging part: if this is how God chose to work through humility, through weakness, through setting aside His rights, what does that mean for us?

This Christmas, as you contemplate the manger, remember: the gift didn’t look like what anyone expected. It looked weak. Helpless. Disappointing to some.

But it was exactly what humanity needed.

And if God chose to work that way. By wrapping omnipotence in infant flesh, displaying strength through weakness, achieving victory through surrender, then perhaps He’s inviting you to trust Him when He wraps your life in something that feels weak.

That difficult circumstance? That humbling position? That place where you must depend on Him completely? It might not be the gift you wanted. But it may be exactly the gift you need. The wrapping through which God displays His strength most clearly.

After all, God’s gifts are always perfect. Even when they’re wrapped in weakness.

“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9).