It didn't feel like Christmas to me this year. The sense of wonder was missing. Was it because this is our first Christmas away from Maine in 14 years and I'm missing the people and the snow? Was it because I am no longer a pastor's wife and therefore not very involved in the church's Christmas activities? Is it because we don't have a house and so, even though my parents' home is beautifully decorated, none of "our" Christmas decorations are out? I sat and wondered about it yesterday. Why did I feel so ho-hum this year?
As I worked at the dining room table yesterday, I glanced over at my parents' beautiful nativity scene. That scene startled unconscious thoughts to the forefront of my mind, and I suddenly realized the problem. I was missing the advent wreath and my personal Christmas devotions. For many years now, I have used the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas to focus my morning quiet times in the many passages that relate to Jesus' birth and to enjoy the amazing grace and love of God that sent His Son to earth.
Several years ago, my husband bought me a beautiful advent wreath for my birthday. Today it is safely nestled in a plastic bin in a storage locker in Maine. Since I knew it would be absent from this year's celebration, I decided to continue reading through my regular passages in the Old Testament. But now, twelve days before Christmas, that needed to change. I need the morning quiet time focus on the amazing miracle of God's becoming man. I need a morning worship time that keeps me from being overwhelmed and discouraged by the embellishments that have shoved the center story off stage. I need to celebrate the "I Am" in this most joyous season of the year.
So last night I headed to the store. I needed to do this as inexpensively as possible. I chose the most inexpensive remedy I could find and brought it home: five candles.
Today I lit three candles, read a Christmas Bible passage, and basked in the wonder of God becoming flesh. Ah! The wonder began to return.
Advent wreaths and candles aren't necessary. I didn't even know about them until I was an adult. They can become part of the embellishments that detract from our worship. So even though I know that this little remedy is far from necessary, it helped me this morning to shine a spotlight on Christmas' main event.
Most likely, our future holds Christmases without the possibility of lighting candles while I read my Bible. When that time comes, I am now equipped to deal with it. I don't need the candles. I don't need the decorations. I don't need snow or Christmas trees. I don't need gifts or concerts. I don't even need Christmas Eve services (as dear as those are to me). What I do need is this: spending time alone each day during the season worshiping the Great "I Am" and reminding myself again and again through the reading of Scripture the daring, caring rescue story of the human race. For me, that's what makes Christmas.
Several years ago, my husband bought me a beautiful advent wreath for my birthday. Today it is safely nestled in a plastic bin in a storage locker in Maine. Since I knew it would be absent from this year's celebration, I decided to continue reading through my regular passages in the Old Testament. But now, twelve days before Christmas, that needed to change. I need the morning quiet time focus on the amazing miracle of God's becoming man. I need a morning worship time that keeps me from being overwhelmed and discouraged by the embellishments that have shoved the center story off stage. I need to celebrate the "I Am" in this most joyous season of the year.
So last night I headed to the store. I needed to do this as inexpensively as possible. I chose the most inexpensive remedy I could find and brought it home: five candles.
Today I lit three candles, read a Christmas Bible passage, and basked in the wonder of God becoming flesh. Ah! The wonder began to return.
Advent wreaths and candles aren't necessary. I didn't even know about them until I was an adult. They can become part of the embellishments that detract from our worship. So even though I know that this little remedy is far from necessary, it helped me this morning to shine a spotlight on Christmas' main event.
Most likely, our future holds Christmases without the possibility of lighting candles while I read my Bible. When that time comes, I am now equipped to deal with it. I don't need the candles. I don't need the decorations. I don't need snow or Christmas trees. I don't need gifts or concerts. I don't even need Christmas Eve services (as dear as those are to me). What I do need is this: spending time alone each day during the season worshiping the Great "I Am" and reminding myself again and again through the reading of Scripture the daring, caring rescue story of the human race. For me, that's what makes Christmas.
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