Jesus? Is that my name? I like the sound of it.

Baby Jesus’ Perspective

By Ricardo Bacchus, Editorial Assistant, CQ Bible Study Guide

Where am I? I think to myself. And what is that horrible smell? I slowly open my eyes, a dim light forcing me to shut them back. I try again, peeking to my left. Cows, mules, and sheep are crowding my space! What’s up with that? Squinting upwards, I see a set of adoring eyes staring right back at me. What a beautiful girl. With an incredible smile. And a handsome man by her side. Are these my parents? As the stench starts to get to me, I sneeze repeatedly. Squirming in my bed, I realize I’m on a pile of hay. Hay? Get me out of here! If only I could scream these words. The woman whom I assume is my mother gently picks me up, kisses me, and with a comforting voice, assures me that I’ll be fine. “It’s OK baby Jesus. I love you.” Jesus? Is that my name? I like the sound of it. She takes me outside into the cool breeze. Ahh. . . now that’s what I’m talking about. I was about to throw a hissy-fit in there. She sings a lullaby to me, the calming voice appeasing my discomfort. “Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. . . .” Her unbelievable voice is what my body is longing for. She then speaks to me again, very softly, very sweetly. “Jesus, you are the Savior of the world. MY Savior!” Huh? What is this crazy lady talking about? The only God I know is in heav. . . . She disrupts my train of thought. “Oh, my precious Jesus. You are the Son of God, born to take away my sins.” Son of God? I thought that dude next to her was my father. Hmmm. . . . Wait a minute. It's coming back to me now. . . . As she returns me to the miserable barn, every possible emotion swells up inside of me. Happiness, joy, anger, sadness, fear, contempt, and surprise, rolled up into one sensation-ball. That’s when I start to cry. As my mother wipes my tears away with her head dress, my mixed tears pour down my unblemished skin. Wow. I get it now. One day my skin will be torn to pieces. For everyone, past, present, and future. And my mother is one of those I will die for, so that she can live forever. The cows start to moo, the sheep start to baa. But they don't bother me anymore. As she rocks me back to sleep, my feelings gather into one soothing reflection: Heaven above, please meet my stable. With my Father’s strength, I will be able. Many may think my life will be a fable, but dying for the world will be my ultimate label.