The Savior who didn't need anyone and chose to need.

There's an idea that feels logical until you look at it head on. We think Jesus is God, so he doesn't need anyone. And sure, God is self-sufficient.

He lacks nothing. He doesn't wear out. He doesn't weaken.

He doesn't run out of resources. But then you open the Gospels and you see something else. You see Jesus being born as a baby, not appearing as an adult.

You see Jesus receiving milk, care, shelter, clothing, teaching. You see Jesus loving specific people with real names. And you see Jesus saying something that disorders our categories.

I no longer call you servants. I have called you friends. John 15, verse 15.

That doesn't sound like a solo Savior. It sounds like someone who gets so close, he lets himself be touched by humanity. And that's where the dissonance begins.

It feels normal to say, I need Jesus. What's hard to say is Jesus chose to live in a way where as a man, he also needed others. Not because he lacked power, but because true love doesn't stay distant.

Love enters the room, sits at the table, stays. Christmas is not just God saving from afar. It's God participating from the inside.

Sometimes we paint the Christmas story as if it were a pretty static scene. Manger, lights, carols, everything neat and tidy. But if you think about it carefully, it's scandalous.

The eternal God allowed himself to be wrapped in swaddling clothes, allowed himself to be held, allowed a mother to feed him, allowed a human father to provide him a home, allowed himself to grow in wisdom and in stature. Luke 2, verse 52. Let's be honest, that clashes with our pride because we love a Christ who rescues us without making us uncomfortable.

A Christ who forgives us, but doesn't force us to admit we're fragile and dependent. But the real Jesus didn't just come to forgive sins. He came to heal the lie that you can be fully human on your own.

No one who is human is an island. And Jesus confirmed it by living as a human. But before we talk about him, let's talk about you.

You, being fully human, have you ever lived a life separate from relationships? Didn't you need someone to change your diapers when you were a baby? Didn't you take a steady hand when learning to walk?

Didn't you say, mommy, look? After finishing your solo bicycle ride around the block, didn't you confide a secret to your best friend? Didn't you let someone buy you dinner when you were short on cash?

Weren't you healed by a hug from someone who loved you? That's how being fully human works. And Jesus lived it too.

He was nourished as a baby. He lived in a house that others sustained. He wore clothes that others made.

He learned from teachers and grew up in a community. He worked with real hands, learning a trade. He attended weddings, shared meals, walked with friends.

He wept with people, rejoiced with people, got angry for people. The son of God entered humanity, and humanity includes this. You need someone to become yourself.

You didn't make yourself. You didn't raise yourself. You didn't learn to speak alone.

You didn't survive your dark seasons without someone at some point giving you water, bread, patience, or a hug. So why do we insist on living as if we were self-sufficient? The modern lie, me and God, that's enough.

This phrase sounds spiritual, but often it's just independence in disguise. Of course, you need God more than anyone, but God in his design didn't make you to live isolated. The problem isn't loving solitude.

The problem is using it as a hiding place. And here are some symptoms to look at ourselves with truth without condemnation. You struggle to ask for help even though you're exhausted.

You struggle to receive love without feeling indebted. You isolate when you fail because you think shame is cured by hiding. You become strong on the outside, but inside you're alone.

You control everything because depending on someone scares you. You draw close to God, but keep people at a distance. That's not maturity.

That's defense. And Jesus came to disarm our defenses, not to humiliate us, but to heal us. The truly scandalous thing about the incarnation, it's not that God became man.

It's how he chose to do it. God could have arrived in visible glory without diapers, without family, without process, without human need, but he chose the opposite. He humbled himself.

He became close. He became accessible. It wasn't weakness.

It was love in the form of humility. Christmas is God saying, I'm going to enter your world in such a way that you'll have no doubts. I understand what it is to depend.

I understand what it is to live with others. I understand what it is to be held. That changes everything because if Jesus lived that way, then your need is not a flaw.

Your need is part of your humanity. Sin is not needing. Sin is denying that you need and becoming your own savior.

Why does it make us uncomfortable to think Jesus needed us? Because it touches our pride at the main nerve. We want a Jesus who is strong for us, but not so close that he exposes us.

We want a Jesus who saves us, but doesn't remove the mask of I can do it alone. Yet the gospel insists. Jesus chose friends, John 15, 15.

Jesus loved personally. Jesus allowed others to serve him. Jesus formed a community, not a fan club.

And here's an important clarification so we don't get confused. As God, Jesus lacks nothing. As man, Jesus voluntarily accepted the limitations of human life, not because he was less God, but because the incarnation is real.

God made man, not theater, not appearance, not a superficial visit. Jesus participated in our condition to redeem it. So what is Christmas saying to you?

That God doesn't call you to be invulnerable. He calls you to be real. That maturity is not not needing.

Maturity is knowing whom you need and how to love without fear. That the kingdom isn't built with strong loners. It's built with children who learn to live as family.

Three simple steps to obey this Christmas. Not theory, practice. One, name your isolation mechanism.

Don't justify it, name it. Do you isolate out of pride, out of shame, out of fear of rejection? Because you got hurt and now you'd rather not risk it?

Give it a name. Light starts there. Two, receive someone, even if it's a little uncomfortable.

You don't need 10 people. Start with one, an honest message, a coffee, a conversation without a mask, a prayer with someone. Receiving doesn't make you weak.

It makes you human. Three, be a room for others. Here's the beautiful thing.

What you receive, you can give. Be a safe space, be a table, be a voice of peace, be a hug with healthy boundaries. Be someone who accompanies because that's Christmas.

God drew near and now we learn to draw near. A question that decides if Jesus, being perfect, chose to live in relationship. Why do you insist on living as if you were an island?

Christmas is not just remembering that Jesus came. It's accepting how he came and allowing that to reshape your life. Say this prayer, Lord Jesus, thank you for making yourself close.

Forgive my pride, my self-sufficiency and my way of hiding. Teach me to receive love with humility and to give love with faithfulness. Make me a living part of your family.

May this Christmas not be just emotion, but transformation. Amen. Merry Christmas.

Habitacion de Dios. May Christ dwell in us and may we learn to dwell in love together.