Bethlehem Lost

I lost my way to Bethlehem last week.  I found myself turned around and looking for the road signs of Christmas that were wrapped up pretty with big bright bows.

I was in search of perfection: the perfect gift, the perfect center-piece, the perfectly, perfect. All I could come up with was a turned around heart and anxiety about the have-nots that had me atheist-proclaiming “I want to cancel Christmas!” 

I lost my way to Bethlehem.

The malls play their canned music about Silver Bells and Winter Wonderlands and prices drop and cash registers ring to the tune of The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.   And, I stand in the midst of a consumer pit – feeling lost, alone and terribly grumpy.

I lost my way to Bethlehem.

After trying and failing to purchase Christmas – to find it in the cutest sweater, the best book, beautiful jewelry and the most sought after video game – I packed myself up and took that grumbling home.

I lost my way to Bethlehem.

The stereo is playing quiet and the car becomes wrapped in Oh Holy Night, and as I exhale the anxiety and facade of what Christmas has becomes grates raw on my heart and I hear a Voice on the road calling my name to return.  “Come… come.”

I lost my way to Bethlehem. 

“Come” – the voice says – “Come and see.  Just turn you eyes and look,  for the way is clear – the light of the Star is your guide.”  

The tears slip down my cheeks – the lights of Advent burn a watery dance as I turn my heart to the Voice that calls me out of the darkness.

“Come” – I whisper back – “come dwell in me.” 

I lost my way to Bethlehem but Christ the Morning Star beckons me – come.  so I leave the wrappings, the glitz and bows – I leave the trappings and…

Come!

Come to Bethlehem and see, Christ the Lord the newborn King!


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