Holy night

It’s Christmas Eve and Sweet William and I sit quietly in the early morning hours waiting for the dawn. Tree lights twinkle red and green.  Devotions are read.  Coffee cups emptied.  Little dog snores softly in his bed beside us.  All is calm, all is bright.

I ponder Advent and the moments we have been given.  Friends gracing table, shared joys and sorrows, memories and hopes mingled.  Learning to be content with the plenty and the less than. The prayer “Be enough for me, Jesus!” being answered in tender ways.

It is the season for giving gifts, and I will receive the gifts God gives for they are all beautiful though sometimes they melt me. The molding and pressing and changing of a life into something more akin to the Son, my dearest, nearest of kin, it is a painful process.  There is no other way to reflect His light, His love.

Today I relinquish claims to my own will.  Tomorrow I will have to do it again.

He is Lord.  Lord over all.  Lord of my days and my nights.  Lord of my laughter and my tears.  Lord and King benevolent and gracious, always bestowing the gift of Himself.  The greatest present.  His presence.

God with us.

The mystery is revealed and angels gaze in wonder.

The prophecy foretold is fulfilled.  The Promise becomes living, breathing infant.

The Creator surrenders to the constraints of creation.  The Lawgiver comes to fulfill the law.

The very Word of God becomes flesh and lives with us.

The unutterable name of YHVH is wrapped in a blanket and called Yeshua, Jesus.

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 and clothed in beauty.

The war-torn is offered peace beyond understanding.

The orphan is welcomed into the Father’s house and invited to call Him Abba.

It was a holy night.

This day, this time in history, this moment, it is holy still.


I Need a Silent Night by Amy Grant