My Christmas heart
I am not often bold in sharing my faith. Not because I am ashamed, or embarrassed, but because I believe the best way I can lead people to God, is by being a kind and decent human being.
If I can be a miniscule of light in a dark place, they will know He has been there.
This has been a really strange holiday season for me. I don’t head off to the office every day, I’m not scrambling to find time to prepare for the holiday’s, and I’m definitely not in a position to gratuitously buy Christmas presents. I am experiencing this season from a truly different perspective then ever before.
I have on my mind those who are hurting this season. Will they reach out and tell someone? Can I help and how will they find me?
I am thinking about Jesus because we are about to celebrate his birthday. Right? I know it’s kind of a joke but he is the reason for the season. And this matters greatly to me. It matters that we who are wrapping gifts and buying expensive steaks and wine for dinner, are not just doing this celebration because it’s tradition, or for fun, or out of obligation to our family.
It matters to me that we know why we are celebrating, and honor him who’s birthday it is.
I was on IG the other day. I have found some very gifted and talented people I enjoy following. This scripture came up-not a thing to do with Christmas, actually more fitting for Easter, and I haven’t stopped feeling convicted to share.
I hope this month has been a blessing for you, whatever you celebrate. I hope you’ve taken a few pauses to inventory all that is good in your life, and the people you are grateful for.
And in my slightly scary boldness, I pray these words come to alive as you read them. This is the life and the love and the sacrifice of the man we are celebrating.
Merry Christmas,
Elisha
Isaiah 53: 1-5
Who has believed what we have heard?
And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
He grew up before him like a young plant
and like a root out of dry ground.
He didn’t have an impressive form
or majesty that we should look at him,
no appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of suffering who knew what sickness was.
He was like someone people turned away from;
he was despised, and we didn’t value him.
Yet he himself bore our sicknesses,
and he carried our pains;
but we in turn regarded him stricken,
struck down by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced because of our rebellion,
crushed because of our iniquities;
punishment for our peace was on him,
and we are healed by his wounds.