The day of celebration for the birth of the King has come and gone. The decorations are mostly packed back in their boxes to be stored until next year.
The nativity is taken down, carefully wrapped and placed in a box. I wrap each piece and pray that as the box gets stored away that the thoughts of them do not.
As I sit here typing, rain is falling. A steady flow of drops for several hours. Rainy days.... my absolute favorite (although a snowy one would top it).
It's the type of day that forces me to sit and do nothing... a day to sit and ponder on the holy. My prayer is, as I think about those small figurines sitting in their box, that they will not be forgotten.
I want to remember the shepherds, and their rejoicing at the sight of the infant Christ. May they remind me throughout the year that the Father chose to send angels to some lowly shepherds, the keepers of sheep, ones thought to be ignorant, and a job looked down upon in that society. I pray that my response to Him is like that of the shepherds who immediately went to see that which the angel told them. And that my reaction, like theirs, is to be filled with worship.
I want to remember the kings who came to see a baby... who by faith followed a star having no idea what is was that they would find. I want to remember that even though He came as Immanuel, He is first and foremost a King and deserves respect and honor.
I want to remember the story of Joesph and Mary. Joesph, a man who trusted the Lord and did as he was told even though it must have been hard. Mary, a woman who had found favor in His eyes... oh to be one in whom He has found favor, is that not the ultimate achievement in life!
And lastly I want to remember this year that He came as a babe. He fully understood His purpose and what would be required and yet He came willingly.
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