Joy of Another Color
I'm usually a pretty jovial person. This has it's good and bad points. I would think that the good points would be pretty obvious and go with out mentioning much, safe for the most important fact that it points to spiritual fruit that brings to bare the earned opportunity to explain this ever pervading expression. The bad points about being a zealously joyful person are usually surmised by the ever cumbersome answering of pointed questions as to ones apparent lack of thier usually all encompassing joy.
An example may be in order to further clarify myself in this regard. It just so happens that I've got one from my recent history that I'll now try to share for further illuminesence on the subject. It began last nite as I was shuttling the kids to church for their x-mas party.
Cam was telling me how much he liked x-mas, because he liked baby Jesus. My response was in like kind to him and I couldn't help but ask if he realized that this baby Jesus was the same man Jesus who, at the same age as his dad is now, went to the cross for us. He said that he knew that and I was comforted by his ability to make the connection.
While the knowledge that Cam 'gets it', brings me great joy, the conversation led me down a path to a joy of another color. I realize that this should be a very joyous time of year, but I don't think that I'll be able to express the same joy that most would associate with the season. You see, I've now got this mental image in my mind that almost brings me to tears now as I begin to type.
When I asked Cam if he knew the same Babe that lay in that manager was destined for the cross, I'm not so sure that I had given it much thought. I pondered this all nite and still wrestle with this weight as my fingers stumble across this keyboard. I gaze at my babies, in all their innocence, and as the tears well, try to image that in the time that it takes for their lives to progress to where mine is now, the reason for all seasons allowed Himself to be crushed.
My mind cannot shed this imagery. Every time I think of the Babe to whom all should adore, I see the man He would become and the Bread that would be broken. Every circumstance that brings remembrance, I think of the One through which all things were made and are sustained and how He bore it all to redeem those things.
If you see me and I don't seem to be my usual joyous self, please bare with me. I'm spending this season with One who was crushed, so that I could be consecrated. I'm pondering how He was reviled to redeem me and establish relationship.
I'll never look at another baby the same again...
An example may be in order to further clarify myself in this regard. It just so happens that I've got one from my recent history that I'll now try to share for further illuminesence on the subject. It began last nite as I was shuttling the kids to church for their x-mas party.
Cam was telling me how much he liked x-mas, because he liked baby Jesus. My response was in like kind to him and I couldn't help but ask if he realized that this baby Jesus was the same man Jesus who, at the same age as his dad is now, went to the cross for us. He said that he knew that and I was comforted by his ability to make the connection.
While the knowledge that Cam 'gets it', brings me great joy, the conversation led me down a path to a joy of another color. I realize that this should be a very joyous time of year, but I don't think that I'll be able to express the same joy that most would associate with the season. You see, I've now got this mental image in my mind that almost brings me to tears now as I begin to type.
When I asked Cam if he knew the same Babe that lay in that manager was destined for the cross, I'm not so sure that I had given it much thought. I pondered this all nite and still wrestle with this weight as my fingers stumble across this keyboard. I gaze at my babies, in all their innocence, and as the tears well, try to image that in the time that it takes for their lives to progress to where mine is now, the reason for all seasons allowed Himself to be crushed.
My mind cannot shed this imagery. Every time I think of the Babe to whom all should adore, I see the man He would become and the Bread that would be broken. Every circumstance that brings remembrance, I think of the One through which all things were made and are sustained and how He bore it all to redeem those things.
If you see me and I don't seem to be my usual joyous self, please bare with me. I'm spending this season with One who was crushed, so that I could be consecrated. I'm pondering how He was reviled to redeem me and establish relationship.
I'll never look at another baby the same again...
posted by lee at 5:08 AM
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