You know how sometimes when you go home at Christmas,
your family treats you like you’re still a kid
even though you’re twenty-three?
or forty-two?
Sometimes, especially at Christmas, we treat Jesus
as if He was still a baby.
He’s not.
The babe in a manger grew up,
took the sins of all humanity upon His shoulders,
descended to the depths of hell,
and rose triumphant over death.
God is now unswaddled.
He’s coming again
and when He does
He’ll be riding a white horse and
He’ll be armed.
“ I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean. Coming out of his mouth is a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. “He will rule them with an iron scepter.” He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: king of kings and lord of lords.” Revelation 19:11-16
So, Jesus isn’t afraid of anything in your world.
He’s not afraid of the cruel words exchanged in your bedroom moments before the dinner guests arrive.
He’s not put off by your son’s addiction.
He’s not appalled that your daughter sent nude pictures of herself to a boy who then pasted them to Facebook.
He won’t cringe when your father-in-law curses or your brother arrives with his new boyfriend or when Aunt Hildy passes out from mixing pills with wine.
He still wants to come to dinner. He’s like that.
He died to invite you to His table.
In a world of shooters and sex trafficking, poverty and politics, He walks unafraid, knocking on doors, asking to come in and dine with sinners.
Now,
I do think He’s angry with churches who send money and shoeboxes overseas but won’t dirty their pews with the locals who don’t clean up so well on Sunday mornings.
I do think He’ll have a word or two, served up on the edge of a sword, for clergy who would never swear or get a tattoo but who exploit little children even as they say they represent God.
I do believe that the posers and pretenders of the faith, those wearing sheepskin over their primal, hunting souls, those who praise Him with their mouths but curse Him with their lives, I do believe this population has something to worry about when He shows up for dinner.
But not you, loved one.
He’s eager to come to your table.
He’s not a baby who needs to be protected from your family situation
or you.
He’s ready to step out of the wooden crèche on the mantle
and eat at the grown-up table right beside you,
loving you,
loving those you love,
even the challenging ones you don’t know how to love
even if you’re the challenging one.
He knows.
Invite Him to Christmas dinner,
and don’t be surprised if He stays.
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Amen my friend. Have a blessed Christmas.
And you, friend. Rest!
Lori…this is, without a doubt, the best post by anyone that I have ever read. It is overflowing with truth and is personally both challenging and convicting for me. The dysfunctional family dinner allegory here is classic, and sadly, one to which I can really relate. A much deeper change is necessary in me, and you have given me quite a lot to think on here. Thank you. A joyful and blessed Christmas to you and your family, Lori.
You honor me with your encouragement. I write what I know, Pam. Will pray for your family as I pray for mine.
“….and a little child shall lead them.” You’ll always be my “little child” but you continue to lead me to better, deeper places. I am blessed. MOMMA
Well said!
Great post! Sharing this one! Merry Christmas!
So thankful my door is ajar. Come, Lord Jesus.
This is amazing! thank you Lori!!