“Jingle Bells, Batman Smells…”

The Lord is good! Blessings overflow as multi-color, wrapped Christmas presents swallowing the base of our tree. Tucked into the corner of the room, our tree glitters with white lights and special ornaments, memories and dreams. I am so blessed to love my family and be loved and to experience a holiday season with my fiancé and friends and family. At times, I am overwhelmed by the goodness I have received when I feel so undeserving. “Privileged” is the preferred term, I believe, in this modern cultural landscape; and, yes, I am privileged. Far more than others has my life been guided into abundance and joy and safety by my God who refuses to let me suffer for very long. I have suffered, but I have been preserved. I have struggled, but then I have been rescued, redeemed and brought to my knees. This is beginning to sound stereotypical to me. I hate that. My life is nothing near to stereotypical. Neither is my faith. It is honestly the only thing I can examine and find to be evident throughout my entire past whether dimly or blinding. God has saved me. He has kept me. He blesses me, and this Christmas is evidence of that.

But…It makes me wonder. Why me? The world hurts. It hungers. It cries. It hates and shivers in the cold. The world is lonely and weak and beaten. It is bloody. It is barren. It is dying. Meanwhile, my bubble of grace has me wrapped in a pink fluffy robe waiting for a fat Christmas Eve feast with family. Why? What have I ever done to deserve this multitude of goodness and love and mercy and abundance? Nothing. I am not worthy. That’s grace.

Everyone who knows themselves to be “privileged” can testify that they do not honestly deserve what they have been given. Why is that? Those who starve and nap in the cold and die in fear do not deserve what they have been given either. Why? Because we all need grace. Grace is a product of love, and love ushers in hope, and hope ignites purpose and zeal to love more. A cycle is born.  Gift grace.

Merry Christmas.

 

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