Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and I'mma tell you why. 1) There's just something magical about it 2) I love, love, love Christmas lights 3) Gift giving is one of my Love Languages, and it's one of the only times when you can give people things and they won't think it's that weird 4) Where I live it's grey and gloomy outside, which is a lovely contrast to being inside by the fireplace, right next to a Christmas tree 5) It's characterized as a time to be joyful, which I already am in abundance, but it just seems to increase 6) It's when I get bacon 7) It's the celebration of the birth of Christ You've heard the Christmas story? Let's not keep Jesus as a baby in a manger; He came here for far greater things than that. I'll be honest, I've heard that same story so many times that I've become kinda numb to it. I've disconnected the Jesus in the story from the Jesus I have a relationship with now - but they are one in the same. I have to stop and remind myself of that, and every time that I do I'm overwhelmed by what He has done in my life. I'm reminded of the reason we celebrate the birth of Christ and why He came to earth in the first place, to offer us the gift of salvation. I'm reminded that by that, God broke the rules & restrictions of religion and brought instead a personal relationship. And by that, I'm reminded of what He did for me 8 years ago and beyond (don't know my story? http://lifewithlew.weebly.com/1/post/2013/02/a-testimony-of-gods-love.html). I found a note that I wrote two Christmas' ago, when I was 18. It was the first time celebrating the season since remembering all that had happened. The handwriting and grammar you can ignore entirely, but it pretty accurately captures my heart for this season - though there's so much more that I could add now. Can you imagine? A 13 or so year old girl who becomes pregnant by the Holy Spirit (try explaining that one to people), is rejected, judged, and nearly killed because of it, then travels with her fiance (who also almost dumped her, before an angel intervened) across a desert on a freaking donkey (while pregnant. Imagine morning sickness . . .) to give birth in a town where she doesn't know anyone, only to find that every hotel room is full, so she has to give birth in a stable - which, historically, was not a lovely, glowing golden hay filled barn. It was usually a cave. A dark, gloomy, cave. And those animals that were gathered around her? They poop. And it's not pleasant. And that's where Christ was born. The King of Kings, born in the humblest of conditions. After hearing it so many times I have to remind myself that the Christmas story isn't a fairytale - it's history. It was hard. It was painful. It was brutal. It was real. And through that, we have our salvation. Happy Christmas, everyone ^.^
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