Tonight I sat on my couch, sipped hot cider from my favorite owl mug until it turned cold, and listened to Christmas hymns. And I listened to the words. I really listened, then I pleaded for them to abide in my heart, the truth of it all. The holy.
How many times have I sung of the Advent? Of God's ransom and every heart preparing him room only to inadequately prepare my own? Countless nights have past since a star shone high proclaiming with the angels that the Christ-child was born. And what of this Grace born for us and this season?
I think it is easy to get lost in it all. Honestly, whatever family traditions we hold onto, whatever church traditions we covet, whatever we choose to focus on will never replace or augment the miracle. With or without shiny decorations, with or without 50 different varieties of cookies, with or without a tree, with or without presents, with or without fellowship, with or without acknowledgement, Jesus still came. Please don't misinterpret my sentiment here. I don't think there is anything wrong with any of the aforementioned things. I adore all of the wonderful ways in which people celebrate christmastime, but they shouldn't become the main focus.
And in the midst of it all, I long for the real remembering. And I want to make more room for him. I want to live in the awe of the night that was hushed and holy. So, I will make time to be silent before him, and I will attempt to live a life that demonstrates my thankfulness for the only gift I will truly ever need and could never deserve.
1 comment:
I loved everything about this post except for the conspicuous absence of a picture of the aforementioned owl mug. Though I guess that wasn't really the point. Still, I wanna see! {wink}
Love you, friend. xo
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