Christmas Letter, A (Pack Of 25)

It?s Christmas night.The midnight hour has chimed and I should be asleep, but I?m awake. I?m kept awake by one stunning thought. The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed. The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stopwatches and weapons. We stepped off our racetracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem. More than at any other time, we think of him. More than in any other season, his name is on our lips. And the result? For a few precious hours our heavenly yearnings intermesh and we become a chorus. A ragtag chorus of longshoremen, Boston lawyers, illegal immigrants, housewives, and a thousand other peculiar persons who are banking that Bethlehem?s mystery is in reality, a reality.For a few precious hours, he is beheld. Christ the Lord. Those who pass the year without seeing him, suddenly see him. Emmanuel. God is with us: He came near. Soon life will be normal again. But for the moment, I want to savor the spirit just a bit more. I want to pray that those who beheld him today will look for him when the gifts are history and carols are quiet. And I can?t help but linger on one fanciful thought: If he can do so much with such timid prayers lamely offered in December, how much more

Lucado, Max