"I just bought breakfast for Jesus and He looked like a disreputable old drunk!"
Christmas again? Oh no! Not already!
Will it be a frantic whirl of feverish activity?
Will it be a tiring round of jaded routines?
Will it be a frustrating rush of doing too much for too many with inadequate reason and little need?
--- OR ---
Will I make my heart a Bethlehem, where the life of the Lord Jesus is nourished, treasured, guarded, allowed to grow and develop to the glory of God?
Will I receive and will I share the genuine and lasting gifts which came with the Greatest Gift this world has ever known?
........................................
I thought I saw him beckoning to me but I hoped I was mistaken and avoided looking at him. He looked like a derelict wino and I hurried toward my car. As I walked across the parking lot, he approached me and mumbled, "Got any spare change for a coffee?"
I replied tersely, "No, I haven't."
Then I got that inner check, which I've learned to obey, so I went after him and said, "But if you're hungry, I'll buy you breakfast."
"Okay," he said; and we went into the restaurant.
As I drove home, sudden words ripped into my thoughts. "I just bought breakfast for Jesus and He looked like a disreputable old drunk!" There was an ache in my heart as I wondered ... I pondered ... will I ever begin to grasp what it meant for Jesus to become sin for us; to take upon Himself all the filth and guilt and heartache of a fallen world, which included me?
Will I ever experience the depths of gratitude I owe?
O Jesus, Jesus, dearest Lord,
Forgive me if I say, for very love,
Thy sacred Name, a thousand times a day.
Maybe I will meet my fellow-sinner again. Maybe I will buy him breakfast again.
Will I have the opportunity to tell him about the ONE Who not only forgives but Who also transforms?
As I thought over the events of that morning, I knew, in a way that was far deeper than all my theological explanations, that I had been granted a tremendous privilege.
(P.S. This happened about 7:20 one Friday morning as I came out of the hairdresser's and I was surprised by how deeply moved I was with a sense of privilege.)
These are the real gifts of Christmas.
With love and prayers,