“They want to see your house.”
That’s what a friend told me, after delivering the news that “everyone” in the Garden Club was apt to show up at the Christmas Coffee I’d said I would host–even the folks who don’t always come to the meetings.
I had a small panic attack. I mean, all of those stylish and talented ladies. In my house. With the Christmas tree still in the driveway, since it’s too big to fit in the family room.
(I know. New year, old problem.)
And then I thought about Mary. Did she have the same hostessing qualms that I did, all those Christmases ago? Like, when the Wise Men showed up, in their fancy robes with their pricey presents, did she fluff her pillows? Hide the unopened mail in the dryer? Dash out to the back yard to cut a few greens to make her fake Advent wreath look a little more real?
I don’t think so.
Maybe it’s because her visitors were men (and therefore could not be counted on to notice, much less rave about, her “Double Marilyn” amaryllis), but I don’t think that Mary did anything. And the way Matthew 2 tells it, I doubt the Magi gave a rip about their surroundings. They just followed the star, and when it stopped….
…they were overjoyed beyond measure. Entering the house, they saw the child with Mary His mother, and falling to their knees, they worshiped Him.
These guys just walked in, took one look at Jesus, and…worshiped.
Which is exactly what I want to do.
Seriously. I love Christmas–even the mayhem part–but I don’t want to get so caught up in the wrapping and tagging and baking and bagging that I wind up missing the Messiah. Like the Wise Men, I want to see Jesus. I want to worship!
For me, though, worship doesn’t always come easy. I can light the Advent candles and read my devotional and put on a Christmas playlist, but then I look up and see The Tree (which finally made it through the front door yesterday, after Robbie sawed nearly half of it off), and think, “Shoot. That thing has got to get decorated, one of these days.”
And there goes my worship.
So here’s what I’ve finally decided. I’ve decided that I cannot worship–really worship–on my own. I get too distracted, too hindered and entangled by all the wrong stuff. I am like the father, in Mark 9, who looked at Jesus and said, “I do believe” and then, in the very next breath, said, “Help me overcome my unbelief!”
I do worship; help me worship!
If that’s where you find yourself too (and particularly as we approach The Big Day), feel free to join me in prayer. Let’s ask God to help us do what we were created to do. Let’s ask Him to lead us into worship. Let’s ask him not just to grant us peace, but to actually be our peace.
Even if it is December 21 and there’s a giant tree, standing there utterly naked, in the family room…
Help us throw off everything that hinders [things like shopping and wrapping and decking the halls] and fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. (Hebrews 12:1-2)
Be our shepherd, O Lord. Be our peace. (Micah 5:4-5)