I was the first grandchild in my mother's family. My uncles were young men and knew nothing about dealing with small children and so they sometimes teased me until I cried, or tickled me until I couldn't breathe, or wrestled with me in mock battles until I became exasperated and angry. Then I would lash out in anger as only a frustrated child can. When that happened they thought that they could turn off the battle by saying, "Enough, enough! We are done playing." They were done playing. I wanted a fight. They would appeal to my grandmother to get me to settle down. She would say, "You caused this. Now you have to live with it." They learned better when I began to have cousins.

It is easy for the adult to exert his or her power over a small child. The difference is like a giant in relationship to a midget. The difference in size and capacity between the child and the adult should always be resolved in favor of the child. The adult must use their capabilities to be of benefit to the little one. My uncles didn't always do that. While they didn't mean any harm, they found it exhilarating to treat me roughly without counting the cost to me. My relative weakness made them quite powerful in comparison. Our Lord Jesus Christ is quite powerful over against us. But unlike my uncles, He never uses His power over against us. He never exasperates us nor does He do things intentionally to anger us. When He battles against us, He measures His opposition to us according to our need. He battles with us for our blessedness (Gn 32:24-32), even if we don't always recognize that that is what He is doing.

In fact, our Lord became incarnate to turn the tables on us. He takes our place. He accepts our weakness into Himself; becoming nothing by being made man (Phil 2:7). He weeps over us because of our stubborn hard-heartedness. He accepts our blasphemous mockery at His arrest, trial, and crucifixion. He permits us to go to war against Him in an attempt to annihilate Him. He never asks quarter. He refuses to use His immense divine power to stop us. Yet how He weeps, not in frustration at our rough treatment, but because we do not seek His ministration for our wounds and wickedness. He weeps to dry our tears. He says, "Enough, enough! You will weep no more, because I have wept. You will suffer no more because I have suffered. Your sin will count no more against you, because I became Your sin." This is not His demand of a frustrated child, but His gift to those who do not deserve His kindness. His weakness grants us our strength. He gets into the mire with us to rescue us from it. His pristine holiness He risks wholly. The immaculate righteousness that is His, He trades for the filthy garment of our flesh. And He never begrudges the trade.