Christmas music was in the air. I looked around my kitchen, at the mess of flour and sprinkles and cinnamon and sugar; at the two happy faces of my young neighbor boys, hard at work decorating Christmas cookies. I rolled some more dough for them to cut and sighed as I envied them their excitement and innocence. Christmas was a time of hope and joy and expectation for them. They’d never lost a loved one who was poignantly missed during the advent season. They’d never made foolish life choices that carried with them profound regret. They’d never felt isolated and alone when it appeared everyone else was wrapped up with family and the joy of the holiday season.
My thoughts moved to the Bible verses I had read that morning, when an elderly Simeon had held the Christ child in his arms in the temple, and had proclaimed that he could now die in peace, because he knew that he’d held the hope of Israel in his very hands. Lucky Simeon, I thought. God had made a promise to him that he’d see the Messiah before he died. No matter how difficult his life may have been, no matter the challenges of advancing age, he could cling to God’s promise and know that one day it would be fulfilled.
Then I looked at the dancing eyes of those two boys and I do believe the Holy Spirit spoke to me in my messy kitchen, as those youngsters impatiently waited for the cookies to bake. I, too held the promise of the Christ child-if not in my arms, then in my heart and being. The promise of Israel for Simeon was the promise for the whole world- for me and everyone I knew. My lost loved ones were safe in Christ’s care, my foolish choices had been forgiven by my savior and my family was each of God’s precious children who came in my path. Because of God’s promise to Simeon, Christmas can again be a time of hope and joy and expectation for all of us.
Father God, never let us underestimate the gift you bestowed on us with the promise of a Messiah, the hope of a wounded world. May we remember always to love each other as Christ has loved us. Amen
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