Still, silent, unseen. Across deserts and oasis, we wait for our King. Lights from the city bling us into believing, we are small, not enough, unworthy of His touch.
I hear rumors of Him coming. Angels sing, bright stars flicker in the night sky. Our quiet place, the empty space where animals graze…
It is here, we wait for our King.
Herod, Lord of the land, is rumored to shed blood at just the thought of another wandering through His land.
Hearts prideful always end in death-like blows. Yet, to kill a child? Could it really be so?
There are rumors about how He will enter…the long awaited Savior…The King of all Creation.
Some say He will part the nights sky and enter like a tornado. Others rumor He comes on a donkey in the womb of a virgin, few see.
I do not know, myself. Yet, I wait. It is almost Christmas.
I hear the people scurry on the streets. The consensus is happening. People are scrambling for shelter and provision, protection from the darkness. They return here, to the city…
Bethlehem. The land of their forefathers.
I just wait. I have no title. No birthright. No reason to deserve my plight. Hay in a manger, waiting in the night sky, without light or fanfare, praise or man’s approval.
Then I hear them, a man and his swollen wife, scrambling to find shelter. The moon rises big and wide. A star shines bright, right over this unseen place, far from most people’s sight.
I hear the woman moaning. The man, frustrated. He cannot find a place to stay. The woman stops, waits, breathes deeply.
Does she know whose coming? And that this is the projected city of his entry?
But I….I am just a manger. Of no worth or significance.
I have no legs or arms or breathe given to me. I simply wait. Wait to be used in whatever way my maker fashioned me….
The woman scurries, sweating, ready….
Tonight feels different from the rest. The star is heavy, bright. It point downward towards my carefully molded sideboards hammered together.
A savior is coming they say. Here. To Bethlehem. Some are waiting for a caravan of gold. Others suspect He will arrive by fire, loud and bold.
But, I do not know…
A wailing soon surfaces from the woman’s cloth.
He is beautiful. Perfect. He is here, next to me, in this humble place where animals come. And still, I get to see Him.
Who put my manger here? How far did He travel just to reach me? And why, in all the world did He happen to come in such close proximity as to MY manger.
And then, the unthinkable happens…
The weary woman, after holding the baby close to her breast, gently places the perfect creature down, closer, slowly into my hay nest.
I feel the gentle weight of this infant, surrounded by my humble straw…And I am amazed to have such a gift as to hold this infant, chosen from above.
Suddenly, I feel new. Whole. I feel alive as if once wood, now breathing with hope and purpose.
The entire reason my carpenter made me, makes sesne now. I was not just a trough, a place dirty where animals drool and spit…
I am a resting place for this tiny infant….the One I hear the woman and man call, Jesus.
And I wonder, this Christmas, if you know the worth of the most humble of circumstances….
The power of a God who could have sent a Savior in any fashion….
Yet He chose you, your heart, like a manger, to place the infant, the Son of God in?
The star in the night sky gets brighter. Time passes and well dressed men now tie their camels to the door posts. They look at what’s in my manger with awe.
He is not just a baby, from the way they gaze on Him…He is a King.
Could it be…THE king? The One Herod worried about, the earth was silent for? The child the whole land has been whispering and groaning for?
And yet me? Why me? Why would this gift above all creation be placed in such a dirty resting place? Why do I get to be the dwelling place of this holy, sacred being?
More come.
Our stable is filled now with sheep and shepherds, well dressed men with presents of gold, frankensense
and myre.
And yet, I dwell still. And just now begin to understand…
My worth was not in what others saw. It was in my ability to open wide and let the Son of Man sit quietly within.
I am a dwelling place for the King.
This infant. The Savior of the World.
And I wonder, today, if your heart has become a resting place for the tiny infant, that came on Christmas day? Your worth isn’t in your appearance, works, or what others say about you?
Your every part was made for Him. Your heart was designed to hold the fullness of a King.
Not just some baby….the long awaited One, the Savior of the World, our Deliverer, the Hope of Nations….a Messiah…Jehovah, the King of all Creation.
Oh God, make our hearts your manger today. Rest still in peace and silence, so our worth comes from your presence.
Let us know the fullness of this gift you’ve placed within us…that we may never take for granted that holy day in Bethlehem.
Today, bent low from heaven, entered creation, a baby, a Savior…
Our King.
** My prayer for you today friend, is that “Christ may make His home in your hearts through faith” and that you may be “rooted and established in love.” (Ephesians 3:17)
Merry Christmas!
