'Tis the season to be stressed or saved? What would Jesus want as a birthday present?
Santa vs. Jesus
I wrote this poem this past March, and oh how it struck me as I read it again. Why is it every year at Christmas it ends up being Santa vs. Jesus?
My daughter went to the Casting Crowns and for King and County concert this past weekend with a dear friend of mine. When she came home, she told me she had heard something she never thought of before. At the concert, the singer said when Jesus was born, there was no room at the Inn. During every Christmas season since, there is still no room for Jesus. Year after year we forget to invite Jesus to His own birthday party. My daughter said to me, “Mom, I never thought of it like that before. That is so true, and it makes me really sad.”
If we could ask Jesus what He wants for His birthday, do you think His answer would be, “Please go into debt and spend a lot of money on your children, family, and friends and buy presents that no one will remember receiving by the following Christmas. Also, make sure you are a frazzled mess while you shop, wrap, and prepare in honor of a fictitious man who you pretend is the mascot of Christmas but really you are the one supplying the goods. Please let the days melt into seconds and forget to reflect on Me because you are too busy catering to the world”?
I think we can agree that is not what He would want for His birthday. He wants you. Jesus wants every part of you-the good, the bad, and the ugly. He wants you to lift up your face to Him and see Him in all of His glory because He wants you for Christmas.
Will you invite Him to His birthday celebration this year?
Penciling in God
I pencil God in on Sundays,
10:15 is when I’m bringing my crew.
I pencil God in on holidays,
It’s the right Christian thing to do.
I pencil God in at bedtime,
Falling asleep before finishing my prayers.
I pencil God in the next morning,
To finish telling Him my worries and cares.
I pencil God in when my life,
Brings me crashing down to my knees.
My mirror breaking into a million shards,
No longer reflecting a life full of peace.
I pencil God in when I’m concerned,
And control no longer seems mine.
I pencil God in when I’m pleased,
And life seems to be going just fine.
I pencil God in when I’m driving,
And a song reaches into my soul.
I belt out and sing of His praises,
My voice wavering out of control.
I pencil God in when it’s convenient,
Or when my mind wanders over to Him.
But my God’s pencil is broken,
His thoughts of me never a whim.
He carries no lead or eraser,
His calendar cleared open and wide.
Waiting for me to turn and see Him,
But my schedule makes me push Him aside.
My pencil is fervently writing,
All that I am required to do.
And time is just too precious,
To sit quietly and listen to His truths.
So the day my pencil slows to a standstill,
And my life is nearer to the end,
Will the moments I scheduled be remembered,
Or the times I introduced Christ to a friend?
Will the deadlines be oh so important,
Or the marks I made when they were complete?
Or the times when I faced my Savior,
While I sat and listened at His feet?
It’s time that I broke my pencil,
Making it look exactly like God’s.
No eraser or lead to speak of,
No appointment getting all of my nods.
I need to look up to my Savior,
Every minute of every day.
And put my life on the path He has chosen,
And throw my calendar away.
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