When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, “Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us.”
Luke 2:15 NASB
I ascended the stairs to the top of the platform. The instructor ran through the instructions one last time. Harness was properly fastened and stable; carabiners hooked and checked; helmet secure. I was ready to go. I leaped off the platform! Woooowheeeee! After all the waiting, I was not disappointed. It was my birthday present from my husband – two hours of ziplining!
Anticipation. It’s one of the spices of life. You plan and wait. The days seem to drag on forever. Then suddenly, the expectation you’ve longed for becomes a reality. There’s just nothing quite like it.
Amid the hoopla of the Christmas season, I encourage you to read the story of Jesus’ birth in a not so familiar translation (Luke 2). Read it with the expectancy that Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, Simeon, or Anna might have felt. Put yourself in their place and let your mind and emotions envision the hope and exhilaration of that first glance of baby Jesus – the Child – the Savior who is Christ the Lord – the Messiah! Imagine and feel the wonder of His birth as they held Him in their arms and kissed His little face.
May the anticipation of the celebration of Christ’s birthday and His imminent return find fresh meaning and a sense of renewed joy in your heart today and in the coming year. Merry Christmas, beloved ones, and be blessed beyond measure!
Eagerly awaiting,
Beverly <><
photo credit: Photo provided by: www.brianreese.com/images/Christmas/Nativity.jpg
What do you do when your world is rocked? You know, when something happens and everything, at least for the moment, changes and forces you to rearrange your life. Over the past few years, unforeseen incidents such as cancer, injuries from a car wreck, a retinal tear, and even brain surgery have shaken my husband and me to the very core of our being and sent us to our knees. . . often.
Entering the large, crowded sanctuary, my husband and I find a seat about halfway down the center aisle. It’s only minutes before the start of the worship service. People greet and hug one another as they take their seats. A lady comes and sits close to me, but only temporarily to visit with the family sitting in front of us. They laugh and chat, oblivious to my presence. As people walk up and down the aisle, there is little eye contact between us. They don’t know me, nor I them. I feel invisible. Lonely. Uncomfortable. No one knows my name.