Three Gifts in Christ

My house wasn't clean today. I had laundry multiplying in the corner, a shower that needed a good scrub down, and after Christmas sales to take advantage of. I had wrapping paper still wedged under the sofa, a baby with chocolate smeared across his face, and the floors still needed a good mopping.

It's easy to make the little things into something big. And unfortunately, it's easy to make the big things into something little.

During the season that we are called to reflect upon the greatness and glory of God, the love of a Savior, the wonder of an infant wrapped in strips of cloth, we instead choose to run around in a world of busyness.

But if we stop to breathe, stop to listen, stop, for just one moment, to reflect, like a rock tossed carelessly into a pond, our joy can ripple... it can grow. Without our even noticing. And as it grows and spreads; it affects others. We affect others. Our attitude, our choices, our perspectives, our behaviors, like hundreds of tiny stones thrown across a liquid surface, begging to make a difference; an impact.

It's a beautiful thing. A messy, chaotic, sometimes confusing, but beautiful thing. Watching as lives intersect, interact, entangle themselves together. We don't always get it right; we might never. We make mistakes and lose sight of the important things. The things we are supposed to grasp and hold onto deeply. The very things that lay the foundation for our soul. We forget them. Because we are busy cleaning the house. We are busy running the errands. We have to get dinner ready, iron the clothes, and make kid's lunches tonight so we don't have to worry about it in the morning before work.

So I stop. I breathe. I listen. I reflect. For just a moment before the baby comes in the room asking for milk. For just a moment before the girls come crashing down the hall asking to play video games. For just a moment before I forget to remember the big things, I reach up to Him, call out to Him. His daughter needing a quick embrace.

And I hear Him. In my heart, He whispers. And I remember.
 
I remember Christ's love for the least of these. His beautiful, scandalous love; completely perfect. And He has given it to me.

I remember His sacrifice. He saved me. Redeemed me. Chose me.

But this time of year especially, I remember His birth. God, my God chose to leave heaven, leave the Father, and become something so small, so vulnerable, for me. For you. For the nations, who He longs to bring into His fold.

I know it's almost time for dinner. And I know the timer on the dryer just went off. I hear a loud thump and the accompanying wail of blame to go with it. Life doesn't stop. And that's a good thing. Raising my kids, tending my house, living my life... it's a good thing. But all these things, all these little things, they are just minute story lines weaving into a footnote into the only storyline that ever matters. Will ever matter. So we have to stop. We have to remember the big things. Because those big things are what turn the messy, chaotic, and sometimes confusing, into a beautiful life.