This, my friends, is lefse. At its most basic, it is a Scandinavian (particularly Norwegian, from my perspective) flatbread. Nearly every culture has a form of it: tortillas, pita, roti, and so forth. Lefse is made with potatoes, flour, milk, and butter. It isn’t fancy; it is a common basic foodstuff, but to me, in its simplicity, it is exceptional.
As I read the passage from Hebrews today, the writer goes big, really big, cosmically big when speaking of God’s word incarnate, Jesus. There is not one thing wrong with that; I am sure Jesus is all of that and more. But here is the deal: as we prepare for Christmas, we tend to see the exceptional in the big, bright, and bold. But the exceptional love of God, the exceptional character of God, comes to us in love as a tiny infant in an out-of-the-way town in a podunk country. Christmas is not exceptional because of its rarity, but because, at its heart, it is so blasted common. We’ve all been there; we were all born small, defenseless, and needy, and God chose to come into the world that God made. In such a manner, it is impressive; one might even say exceptional.
Becoming What We Already Are... 