I woke early this morning and it was cold. Cold for here anyway. Wrapping myself in the huge robe guaranteed to ward off any chill, I slogged out the door in my slippers to look at the temperature which read 46 degrees. All you people in the snow, I don’t know how you do it. I wimped out of praying in my usual spot out in the shop. I came back inside and settled back in my easy chair and turned the heat up. I felt a momentary sadness knowing that tomorrow I would be spending Christmas at work, but that sadness was fleeting.
On December 26 all the frenzy will be over, but Christ will remain, big as life. As I gaze figuratively at the face of the babe in the manger, I ask myself all over again what it really means. This God coming to earth. Who can possibly understand that kind of love? Who can truly grasp it? The love of a God who would voluntarily come down here to this planet rife with turbulence and every kind of heartache and sin.
How can I feel anything but unbridled joy, knowing He would do that for me? For you?
What it means for us Christians is that we pick up our crosses all over again as we do everyday, knowing that He will never expect us to carry as much as He did. My little cross, whatever it is will never lead to Calvary, but ultimately to Heaven. How can it possibly be?
The babe in the manger scares me sometimes to be honest because I look at that baby and I ask myself how my life would change if I really truly believed as I say I do? The manger means hard questions sometimes. Look what it meant for those to whom He came then……..
Mary was afraid.
Joseph wanted to divorce her quietly.
The Shepherd’s were shaking in their sandals on that night.
Herod was so threatened he murdered all first-born babies up to two years old.
The wise men journeyed hundreds of miles just to worship Him.
As I sit here in my chair pondering all this, I am overwhelmed with thanksgiving for a God that would love so much that He would risk it all, knowing we might still push Him away.
Every light is lit and the tree casts a glow that fills the room. Even these two old cats have caught my joy. They have turned into kittens momentarily, playing tag and dashing back and forth. I smile at their play as I opened to my devotional and read these words:
Lord, you have been our dwelling place
throughout all generations.
Before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the whole world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
You turn people back to dust,
saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.”
A thousand years in your sight
are like a day that has just gone by,
or like a watch in the night.
Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death—
they are like the new grass of the morning:
In the morning it springs up new,
but by evening it is dry and withered.
Psalm 90: 1-6
The question remains: What can it possibly mean? To me it means saying yes all over again. Sometimes it’s a feeble yes, sometimes a shaky yes. But it’s always a yes.
Merry Christmas from Lori’s Prayer Closet. I pray you know the joy of the Savior today.