Last year while with Sarah and Matthew and out on a walk with them near Christmas time we started talking about Christmas-y things - presents, Santa and Jesus. I stuck on the thought that Jesus came as a child, then I asked them if they would want to be a baby again. There response was a quick and decisive "no." I love children's blunt honesty. As I contemplate Christmas, I don't usually fully dwell on the fact that our God chose to become a helpless baby. He chose to put himself in a place of dependence on others. He chose to empty himself (Philippians 2).
I hurry and scurry about and think of the blessing of Christmas, but not necessarily the cost, the humility to be helpless, born in stable, and have only shepherds come to acknowledge the king of the universe's birth.
As I get older, Christmas feels more forced, more of a time to do things then to contemplate Christ. Yet, surely the years should not deaden my heart to Christmas, but liven it. Surely growing deeper in love with my Savior should cause me to seek to delight in the truth of who he is and all he gave for me; all he gave up in coming to earth. Seeing the greatness of what he did, the beauty of who he is should stir me, should stir all, to come and worship. Then, how can we not go and tell of the wonderful news that Christ came for us?
Come and worship... go and tell.
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