Christmas is very different than it has ever been for me. It has more meaning, more wonder, more awe and mystery. I look at my kids and I think of the sacrifice of God - incarnate, helpless, sent to be killed. I can't fathom it. It seems so odd, so wrong. I can't imagine an existance away from my kids, can't fathom sacrificing them for anything. And then I have a profound thought.
I am not God.
It's easy for me to become cynical about things this time of year, I admit. It's hard to reconcile peace on earth while war rages, hard to reflect on sacrifice while lives of excess are glorified, hard to celebrate the birth of a baby when so many children are starving to death. There are so many things I don't understand, that I can't even begin to reconcile, things I would do differently if I was, but I am not God.
And that is what brings me to my knees, gets me to a place where I can worship, where I can trust, where I can reflect on who He is. God incarnate, God who heals, Father God.
And the God who will make a way.
No matter what the cost, no matter how long it takes, God will make a way. There will be peace on earth, there will be comfort for those who mourn, those who ask will receive, because God will make a way, has made a way and is making a way each moment that passes.
I worship a God of mystery, of wonder, a God who seems illogical, who is above my understanding, a God who cares, who lives, a God of love, of sacrifice, a God who weeps, a God who understands. I don't have to understand, or agree, or be able to explain it. No matter how much I question, how frustrated the process makes me, I am always brought to this place. He is God, I am not, and I worship Him.