Friday, January 13, 2012

he still comes

The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed.
The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stopwatches and weapons. We stepped off our race tracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.
We reminded ourselves that Jesus came as a babe, born in a manger.
I’d like to suggest that we remind ourselves he still comes.
He comes to those as small as Mary’s baby and as poor as a carpenter’s boy.
He comes to those as young as a Nazarene teenager and as forgotten as an unnoticed kid in an obscure village.

He comes to those as busy as the oldest son of a large family, to those as stressed as the leader of restless disciples, to those as tired as one with no pillow for his head.

He comes and gives us the gift of himself.
Sunsets steal our breath. Caribbean blue stills our hearts. Newborn babies stir our tears. Lifelong love bejewels our lives. But take all these away—strip away the sunsets, oceans, cooing babies, and tender hearts—and leave us in the Sahara, and we still have reason to dance in the sand. Why? Because God is with us.

He still comes. He still speaks.

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