The Lion and the Baby

It’s Christmas, and I find myself feeling that a baby Jesus won’t do this year. Sorry, Ricky Bobby, but your prayer to “Dear Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Baby Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent” just doesn’t do it for me right now, even with the “omnipotent” part.

Nope. 2015 has made me want the heavenly angels to be singing “Hail, hail Lion of Judah” instead of “Glory to the newborn King.” And even though I know and trust that God-of-the-Angel-Armies could fit in a manger because that’s how it went down, still, y’all …

The 25th is bearing down on me, and I’m more ready for that “dark and silent night” to be “the Light that shines in the darkness.”

In all honesty, thinking of a child being delivered in a stable is not leaving me as breathless this year as much as thinking of the Deliverer. I feel like I’m frantically seeking the Lord God Almighty while Wise Men in nativity pageants everywhere bow before a baby doll.

I’ve already got a prayer list a mile long for 2016. Wouldn’t EL SHADDAI be a more likely recipient, given the events in 2015, than a Baby King? I’m looking to the Spirit to hear the cry of my heart, and intercede with groans that words cannot express.

So, this Christmas, my focus is on The Lord of Hosts and not so much the heavenly hosts—or the stable, manger, shepherds, etc. The children were darling in their nativity costumes and I enjoyed the adorableness. Darling adorableness just isn’t breaking through this year, no offense to anyone, especially the Most High.

Look, I get it. God meets us where we are and sometimes that’s in the middle of the night in Bethlehem. Sometimes it’s somewhere else. Sometimes we can’t find God. Sometimes we find ourselves grasping desparately to understand the Mystery, even knowing that we won’t while we still have breath.

Ricky Bobby argues his case for praying to the Baby Jesus, continuing, “Well, look, I like the Christmas Jesus best when I’m sayin’ grace. When you say grace, you can say it to Grown-up Jesus, or Teenage Jesus, or Bearded Jesus, or whoever you want.”

I never thought I would find myself thinking this, but, “Well said, Ricky Bobby. Well said.”

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