The Incarnation is not a poetic idea or a distant doctrine. It is God choosing to step directly into the grit and beauty of human life—into families with tensions, bodies that grow tired, communities that misunderstand, and days that don’t go as planned. Jesus didn’t come to float above real life; He came to inhabit it so that we could learn how to make sense of our own.
If God chose this world, with its noise, its heartbreak, its unfinished stories, then perhaps our own complicated lives are exactly where grace wants to meet us.
But that raises a harder, more personal question:
What in my own life and heart needs the light of God’s will right now?
Where am I confused, restless, or carrying something alone?
What patterns or desires need to be sifted so I can see more clearly?
Discernment rarely happens at the speed of our culture. It asks for a different posture—one that looks more like Jesus’ own life: unhurried, attentive, rooted in relationship with the Father. It asks us to slow down enough to notice the quiet movements of the Spirit, those small interior nudges that often get drowned out by our pace.
Maybe the invitation this season is simple:
Make space. Just a little. Every day.
A few minutes of silence before the day begins.
A breath prayer when anxiety rises.
A nightly examen to notice where God was present and where we resisted grace.
A whispered, “Speak, Lord, I’m listening.”
The Incarnation tells us that God is not far from our real lives. The question is whether we are close enough—still enough—to notice Him.
Smitten With Goodness 