Contributor Two Contributor Two
"Ordinary Baby"
Contributor Two Contributor Two
Ordinary Baby

He was just an ordinary baby;
That’s the way He planned it, maybe;
Anything but common would have kept Him apart
From the children that He came to rescue,
Limited to some elite few,
When He was the only child who asked to be born,
And He came to us with eyes wide open,
Knowing we’re hurt and broken,
Choosing to partake of all our joy and pain.

He was just an ordinary baby;
That’s the way He planned it, maybe,
So that we would come to Him
And not be afraid.

He was ordinary with exception of miraculous conception—
Both His birth and death He planned from the start;
But between His entrance and exit was a life that has affected
Everyone who’s walked the earth to this very day.
With no airs of condescension
He became God’s pure extension,
Giving you and me the chance to be remade.

He was just an ordinary baby;
That’s the way He planned it, maybe,
So that we would come to Him
And not be afraid.



Lyrics: Gloria Gaither Music: Dony McGuire Copyright. © 1982
BUD-JOHN SONGS INC/ASCAP, IT’S-N-ME MUSIC/ASCAP, GAITHER MUSIC/ASCAP.

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Pregnancy and birthin’ babies is one of the toughest jobs on the planet.

For many years Dony and I struggled with having children: three miscarriages, countless humiliating procedures, experimental fertility drugs and three tedious corrective surgeries. When I miraculously became pregnant with Destiny, we were ecstatic! The earth-mother hiding in me suddenly stood up and took full charge; I nested, ate organic and decided to have natural childbirth … what was I thinking?!

It’s funny, the surprising moments when God shows up. Some believe that a woman is never more vulnerable or open to the spiritual dimension than she is during childbirth. Many testify of supernatural experiences during this wondrous event of bringing forth new life.

I was 20 hours deep into induced hard labor — I’m talking “wanna cuss your husband” labor. Because I was high risk, there was an amazing medical team assembled along with my family and lots of praying friends. When I was in the height of transition, I was overwhelmed with smell sensitivity; between Dony’s Juicy Fruit gum and Mom’s Giorgio perfume, I thought I would surely die from asphyxiation. The two were quickly banished from the room to get rid of the dreaded aromas when suddenly (and I don’t know how to explain it ’cause I wasn’t on drugs), my spirit popped through an ancient porthole.

I was in a damp, cool, cave-like structure lit only by torches. The smell was pungent, reminiscent of my great uncle Jimmy’s barn of animals and hay. Anyone who has any spiritual sensitivity and has been privileged to witness childbirth remembers the distinct sounds of a woman in various stages of labor. In my vision there were shadowy figures huddled ’round a teenage girl straining with the primal, guttural cries of the unmistakable final pushing of labor.

“By My Spirit, Mary was able to birth the Son of God in the most primitive of conditions,” the Voice whispered. “That same power, My Spirit, is enabling you right now!”

All at once I was back in my hospital room, and with one more push from the deepest depth of strength, Destiny entered through the canal with a flourish of blood and water. I’ve never felt more of God in a room.

As I held our wailing, bright-eyed child, I remembered the day, years before, when Gloria handed Dony a typed lyric, and on the top were the words “Ordinary Baby.” “Dony, do you think there’s any way this might become a song?” she smiled, eyes twinkling. “It actually came to me while I was sewing, and I wrote the lyric to the rhythm of my sewing machine.”

Dony got that familiar “glazed-eyed, coming down with a song” look. He quickly disappeared out the door and down the blinding wintry path to their quaint guest chalet where he and I were staying. Apparently, a few songs are birthed without lengthy, hard labor pains. Within moments Dony returned, and as snow danced outside their big picture window, he played the newborn melody on Bill’s old piano. We held our breath in holy awe when for the first time earth heard this classic carol as he sang, “And He came to us with eyes wide open...”

— Reba Rambo-McGuire