Knee Deep in Manure

The blaze of the fire warmed the room. Rich green garland dressed the mantle as ornate stockings hung expectantly. In the corner stood a magnificent pine tree adorned with twinkle lights and shiny red ornaments.

These were the signs of Christmas.

Yet somehow this familiar scene brought restlessness to my soul. I dared to ask the unthinkable.

Is this really Christmas?

Is my soul satisfied from the aroma of pine swirling in the air, the flickering of lights, or the brightly wrapped packages under the tree? I wrestled to find Christmas in candy canes precariously hanging from branches and Santa Claus staring at me from the fireplace.

Is this Christmas?

Climbing into my car, my heart raced with desperate need to seek contentment for my soul. Where can I find Christmas? For miles I drove—my heart searching the sights around me. Passing streets adorned with wreaths, Santa’s ringing bells, and tree lots.

Is this Christmas?

My heart grew expectant as my search led me to a local farm. My soul anticipated discovery as I quietly walked the dirt path through stalls of animals.

And then I saw her.

I. Couldn’t. Stop. Staring.

All four legs of this dairy cow were standing in none other than wet, soggy manure—the stench intolerable. Devouring every last bit of hay from the dirty steel trough, she paused to lift her contented face towards me. Her gaze told me she knew what I was seeking.

And it was in those moments I not only found myself—I found Christmas.

I also stand in the muck and mire of my brokenness.

Yet if I lean in, like she does, I can hear the Christ Child call to me. The God who rose from His throne, left heaven, and stepped into our world—naked and vulnerable. It is this God I hear wooing me to draw near and feast on His goodness and grace from His humble trough-like crib.

And when I do—I find what I was looking for.

This, my friend, is Christmas. 

lk

Will you lean into the Christ Child today?

Here or somewhere...be real. Share your journey.

Sounds for the Soul

The Gift by David Nevue

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IAgw-yQCtE

Scriptures

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. Psalm 40:2 NIV 1984

The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Luke 2:10-12

Yield

I open the window to allow the fresh air to blow through the house.

I find a seat on the couch and the First Boy plops down next to me. He clutches a pencil in his hand as my fingers fly over the computer keys. Shoulder to shoulder we write. He hums a tune as he works his spelling words into vowel patterns. I pause as I try to give voice to the heart of this post. He sets his pencil down to clap the rhythm of syllables. Deliberate and purposeful his hands come together to the beat of words.

Peace, piece, our, hour, cent, and scent—all words for life.

My spirit pauses to listen in…

He claps to the rhythm of   L I F E.

The open window becomes a passageway to my heart. I hear the leaves of the trees rustling even clapping in the wind…

Do I clap to the rhythm of life?

Or do I will for the tempo to change?

Now the Blonde Boy catches my attention. He sits on his knees sinking lower and lower into the floor. He leans into his art taped to the wall. Black marker in hand he pens his name in the lower right hand corner—

Writing identity across his creation.

Is that not what our Lord does? Write His name ever so carefully across our lives. Is He not intentional and even deliberate with the picture of our destiny?

The Blonde Boy covers the pen with its cap and wanders over to the open window. He watches in wonder as the curtain transforms into a sail. The wind fills the fabric with its breath. His blue eyes widen as the sail swells. Anticipation lights up his face. I know what he’s thinking—

How high will the sail fly?

How high indeed. How high or low will the Wind take us? I feel the coolness of the breeze fill the room—and I know—our sail will soon change direction.

Will I go where the Wind blows or will I resist with the weight of an anchor?

The bronze fabric balloons high and then whips wildly to the wind. I hear them again—the trees clapping to the rhythm. They know—I know—to trust in the Wind.

lk

Are you yielding to Holy Spirit to lead you? What direction is He taking you in?

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Reflective Scripture

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight

Proverbs 3:5-6

Relevant Worship

Mighty Breath of God by Jesus Culture

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob5O2ZDQ9Ds