It’s quiet now, everyone is out with last minute shopping. I’m by myself, and it’s nice. Some people have already been and gone. Others may just have to be met for a dinner out later. You know, I never could get people together or to agree on or plan anything,
Maybe, your family is the same, maybe everyone’s is. Rush, rush, whether shopping or traveling. What about rest? Rest? Jesus wants us to celebrate Him and His birth and sacrifice, His presence not presents, His peace, not the world’s idea of it.
I always wanted for people to come to my house and enjoy a good meal and each other’s company, watch good Christmas movies. I even wanted them to want to help decorate have hot chocolate, wrap gifts. I always used to try to get them to draw names. I wanted us just to be able to buy for who we wanted to and what or not at all, that was fine, too. Families grew and grew apart, second cousins, great nieces and nephews and people you rarely see don’t know you, and sometimes the ones who do seem distant, wrapped up in their own lives, a scarlet ribbon of remembrance, but not of recent memory, surely not the oil of joy, that once seemed to fire them up, we need that gift.
If I buy you something, I want you to have it. If you get me nothing, that’s alright, too. I’m not going to judge. I’ve always been the giver anyway. I have to admit receiving is hard for me, even to the point of letting Jesus give to me. I wanted what He wanted me to have because He died for it. I didn’t expect Him to be so generous, nor the attacks to thwart the generosity. I wasn’t resting, I was running to keep up with everything. And now I rest in His finished work on the cross. I can’t control everything, I was once very organized but people haves stepped into my life and all over that gift. And still, I rest.
I didn’t need the treadmill folded away in the garage. I was like a little hamster on a wheel going round and round. My own little wilderness and the land of milk and honey just out of reach. And I refuse to do it anymore. Jesus wants me to rest from the world’s weariness. I slept good last night, when I woke up, I prayed, got a drink of water, went back to sleep.
This morning started like most, but then ugly reared its head. I can’t just allow my peace from the Prince of Peace to be destroyed. I have had enough plans wrecked, dreams shattered. I seen enough of the gossip get togethers and fake and phoniness, and obligatory I Love Yous.
I want my home to be full of Jesus, all year and this time of year should be the most loving of all. I still hold onto the hope of someday’s realization of others knowing the Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and most beloved Prince of Peace. I still cling to living room of smiles and my grand piano making melody, I might even buy a harp, now that’s Christmas. And maybe it is heaven.
My table was set with Old Country Roses China, beautiful cut roses filled the dining room, anthurium, a beautiful Christmas flower.We all sit around the table and offer a prayer of thanks, everyone moves in and ot giving gifts or reading or reciting something, we take Christmas crackers off the tree. Carols are sung, we sit by the crackle of a gas fireplace. Logs are not for me and my sinuses.
Everyone has a gift, and a spiritual gift. Everyone gives in some way and receives in some way. Everyone loves and is loved. Everyone knows the Savior, that’s Christmas. It sounds like a happy ending to a Dickens novel, if only we can overcome with Jesus, our ghosts of Christmas past, so there will be a Christmas future.
As everyone runs to and fro, I’m taking my Christmas to celebrate Jesus, and His love by resting in it. He is the reason for the season. And I have studied so much about rest that I choose to receive that as a gift. I needed it, I deserved it. He died to give it to me, and I praise Him for it.
No more running, much more resting. What a relief. I can participate, I can celebrate. But no more chaos and confusion. Silent night, holy night, I’ll be resting and sleeping in heavenly peace.
He has set me in a place of rest and peace and safety and my heart is forever settled in it, even if others won’t share it with me, or if I just have to put in an appearance, I will have the best Christmas ever.
And maybe my ideal Christmas is not just a dream, someday it will come true. Jesus is the author and finisher of faith, and He inspires us, the writers, artists, musicians. Maybe, just maybe, actually and no maybe, instead of Santa, He’s watching the nice and we’re in for a surprise, God bless us each and everyone.
Rest in the Christmas that is Christ…Rebecca Jones Anderson Miranda/ pexels/ AdobeSpark