Yeah.

Here we stand, mid-December. In the season celebrating the birth of our dear Savior, Jesus Christ, the Messiah, Son of God, King of Kings, and Prince of Peace. No greater single earth-side historical event even comes remotely close to the significance of the birth of the Christ child. The redemption of all mankind stood in the balance. Eons of perpetual sin. A tyranny of transgressions against the Most Holy God. Wickedness of geometric proportions. And a most beautiful, holy, perfect innocent child.

He came.

He was born.

He lived a spotless life.

He died on the cross.

He bore our sins, lovingly and willfully.

His death as a sacrifice to give life within.

Our death to sin to receive new life in Him.

...

And yet. I am not who I should be this Christmas. I let the humdrum busyness and routine of life intrude on the sheer majesty of the advent. Think of it! The intersection of the Supernatural upon the natural. The Holy upon the humdrum. The miraculous upon the minutiae of life. If we allow ourselves to be caught in the cycle of the mundane, the mindless trudging back and forth between our beds from morning to evening, we will miss the Savior!

Forgive me Lord! There are things I adore more than You, more than than Your Son sent to save us from ourselves. Restore to my heart and soul a longing for anticipation. Anticipation of the baby Jesus. Anticipation of His redemptive work on the Cross. Anticipation of His sure return!

Poem:

Forgive me Lord

Forgive me Lord

There's something I adore

more than You

unfortunately

I give You this

and implore

Remove, Replant, Restore