Holidays

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Worship the babe of the cradle with homage to the Man of the cross. I rejoice in the story of the nativity; the birth of Jesus renews hope, leading me to climb Calvary hill and remember his sacrificial death. Mary wrapped him in swaddling clothes; guards stripped him of raiment to bear his shame before a mocking mob.

Travel city streets; hear the bells on Christmas day. Remember the crowded streets of Jerusalem; hear the hammered nails of Good Friday. “After the soldiers nailed Jesus to the cross, they divided up his clothes (John 19:23 a CEV).” Christmas is superficial with commercialism at its best until we make the connection from comfortable cradle, to excruciating death on the cross.

Lord, my heart is fickle; I am selfish and easily swayed by tinsel and bows. The greatest gift did not appear under a tree; he hung on a tree transformed into a weapon of execution. I receive your gift with a contrite heart. “A broken and contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise (Psalm 51:17b NAS).”

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