Sunday, December 20
bring me a star.
glistening and pure.
one that REALLY shines.
light bursting everywhere.
let's take our sinew and muscle
and set jaws, with fire burning in our
souls, and push through the pain
into radiant freedom and exorbitant
joy and light,
it is Christmas.
white and pure and humbling.
Jesus, our Star, was born.
just for us. that, ultimately, what
was red as crimson can be as white
bring me the Star.
i want to be like Him.
the bank at the grocery store
showed i had almost NOTHING in
my account. six days before Christmas.
with tears in my eyes,
i was driving out of the parking
lot when i saw a woman with a sign:
HELP! i pulled over to her. pushed
the window down.
tell me about you.
where you need help.
i just know you are a single
mother like me.
yes. with three sons.
i've tried everything, but
i know. i know, i said.
turned the car around.
back to the bank.
there's a single mother
outside that is desperate.
she seems authentic.
Jesus says unto the least of these...
the hungry, the naked, the abandoned...
we are to love. so, i've returned to get a
little money for her.
the bank teller looked at me.
you hardly have any yourself.
i know. but just a little. i feel
destitute like her. i don't want
to miss Jesus' strong arm of love.
i found the woman.
put the folded cash in
her hand. remember, i tell her,
God's arm is never too short.
and He loves you.
was telling me that God
uses the weak, and makes
them strong. the unknown.
He raises them to noble assignments
if they are humble. AND, God uses the
strong, but He must break them first
because He will share His glory with no one.
no bragging Christmas letters.
no overlooking of the needy.
no burden of being too busy for
crushed to be annointed
by the Star. the King of Kings.
three hours after i returned home,
begging God to give my children a
Christmas. all of them coming home.
all of them so incredibly loving to their mother.
three hours, and a knock at my front door.
a beautiful friend i have barely met.
an envelope in her hand. MUCH more
than i gave the woman by the store.
falling prone on my face
with such joy and gratitude and humility.
my friend falling to the floor. lying next to me.
our faces buried in the carpet. crying.
praying. praising God for the Star.
because of the Star,
we can partner with Him in
pouring His love and redemption
over our neighborhoods.
bring me the Star
that i may, somehow,
be holy like Him. beauty
for ashes. joy for mourning.
oh, Star, i come. i come.