Good morning Lord. This past week has been full of pressures and it has been hard to feel you at all. If you are in it – I missed it. So here I sit this morning. The lights of the Christmas tree shining bright speaking of holiday, rejoicing and happiness; but I am weary.
Is this how it has always been? Is this what you expected and wanted? I know the questions I asked are stupid. But, what has happened? To shift my thoughts toward you I find it hard and uncomfortable, even scary. To even talk to you is uncomfortable and I feel afraid to come up close. Is it because of my smallness next to your vastness or your infiniteness and my finiteness? Or my unavoidable death and your forever? Or is it you being all powerful and I being fragile and weak? There is also your complete and unlimited knowledge and then my lack of understanding and the questions that haunt me. And of course, there is always your holiness lighting up my sinfulness and I want to hide.
I would have expected you to come in thunder or lightening or maybe even riding an asteroid, for after all you are God, the all powerful one. But no, you came softly in less than a whisper, as a baby, small, helpless, weak, fragile, in an obscure stable of all places. Did you come in this manner so I would not be frightened and not run and hide? I wonder…..
I am trying to not hide, and I am thankful for the story, so sweet and I begin to inch close to you. But to read on, later the story turns sad, horrible, and I want to hide again. I read of your grief, your suffering, the tears you shed, the loneliness you felt, the rejection by those close to you, and then of course comes the real horror, a cross.
If that was the end, the story would have no meaning. But, then the story changes and lifts the sadness and the power of death is torn down by your resurrection. If I continue to hide and miss the story, it does not change its power does it? If I hide and ignore the story, it does not change the fact you came. And that whisper if I am not quiet or careful I will miss it and the story will have no effect.
Now that the rush is over, now that the presents have been place under the tree, help me be quiet, help me not miss hearing your whisper….