The Babe, the Christ, the Holy King

We take the holiest of things in our hands and desecrate, profane. We handle the God-child as though he were something we could manage, something we could manipulate.

Do we not know who he is?

Do we not understand that this ground is sacred?

Do we not recognize the Almighty?

Do we believe we are so great?

My heart pounds because there are so many things that I have done wrong. As a child, as a daughter, as a sister, as a wife, as a friend, as a mother. As a Christian. 

I can't decide if I hear the rumble of thunder, see the flash of fire and the flared nostril, or if I hear the angels' chorus,"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

"[O]n whom his favor rests"...is this me? Us? How could that be? And yet, that is what the Word says. Peace, favor, joy are given. 

This is Christmas. 

No more foolishly mishandling the holy. May we be blessing, honoring, and revering, using these hands, these voices, these hearts for "glorifying and praising," as the shepherds did. They recognized the holy, and they were amazed "for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told."