The small fiber optic tree on the corner table, a loan because I could not make the effort this year, twinkles its changing colors. All is calm, all is bright.
Friends have graced table, us sharing joys and sorrows, memories and hopes mingled. Learning to be content with less takes time. Learning that Jesus is enough is my calling.
In the season of giving gifts, I receive what God gives for it is alway perfectly suited, though sometimes it melts me. The molding and pressing and changing of a life into something more akin to the Son, it can be a painful process. Yet there is no other way to reflect His light, His love.
Jesus is Lord. Lord over all. Lord of my days and my years. Lord when I laugh and when I cry. Lord and King, benevolent and gracious, always bestowing the gift of Himself. The greatest present. His presence.
He is the with us God, Immanuel.
The mystery was revealed and angels gazed in wonder.
The prophecy foretold was fulfilled.
The Promise became living, breathing Infant. Child. Savior.
The Creator surrendered to the constraints of creation.
The Lawgiver fulfilled His own law.
The breath of God, His very Word was formed into flesh and tabernacled among us.
The unutterable name of YHVH was wrapped in a blanket and called Yeshua. Jesus.
The 400 years of silence was broken by a newborn baby’s cry.
And thus . . .
The lost is found.
The prodigal gets to go home.
The impure is cleansed.
The sinner is called righteous.
The ugly is redeemed, clothed in beauty.
The war-torn is offered peace and a place of rest.
The needy receives grace.
The orphan is welcomed into the Father’s house and invited to call Him Abba.
It was a holy night.
This moment, it is holy still.