This Christmas was a blur of blurs.
I was thickly involved with the Villa Rica Tour of Homes. There was a whole lot of planning and scurrying to make that happen.
In addition to decorating my house over the top and trying to get it together for my own family (We ended up having like 3-4 “Christmases.” Who does that?)
Christmas day, after all the hoopla was basically over, we were sitting in our living room and I said, “What about Jesus?”
I wasn’t kidding. I had been hoofing it since the end of October to get everything done
I slept for four days straight after the Tour — not even joking.
And at the end of it, the very One whom we were celebrating was relegated to the back of my mind.
Sure, I breathe Jesus. He is ever on my heart and mind and I am in constant communication with Him. BUT I neglected the Word, neglected time in the mornings to reflect and pray, neglected the serenity that should be Christmas time.
I managed to make my house look like a Southern Living Christmas magazine, get the appropriate gifts bought, the turkey made, the candles lit, but did I worship at the feet of my Savior?
”There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus...” Rom. 8:1
I am covered with His redemption, but I missed the heart of it and that only hurts me.
Today is the “Epiphany” — the last day of Christmas and the traditional “revealing” of the Christ child as He was visited by the wise men (though we really don’t know exactly when that happened).
As I sit here early on this chilly morning, contemplating His coming to earth, the King of the universe, who took on the humility of flesh to become one of us and to suffer and die, I finally see Him. I have prayed in the recent days since my precious Daddy died, for more faith. I wrestle so much with trusting God. My default is to worry, worry, worry and run about trying to fix everything.
We talk all of our Christian lives about faith, about trusting God, about Heaven. Those things can be spoken about in realms without actually believing them, without walking in them down here in the muddy trenches. Trite phrases float about like a thin oil on the surface of our lives, never reaching down into our hearts.
This early morning, where sleep escapes me, I re-open my skittery heart to you, Lord. I know that it is Your work, when You pull me in and increase my faith. The sea parts, as it were, and I get a glimpse of Your love for me. Unfathomable, undeserved and unlimited. Merry Christmas.