Silent, Holy night

A quiet hush. A black room. Lit now by one candle, now by a hundred. A hundred voices singing together praises to Christ the King-the Babe. Snow falling outside the window. Joy wells up in each heart that knows the truth of that Christ-child. Each one that has experienced His redeeming grace feels the soul-tug of home-sickness for our Father. And each mind slowly wanders back to that silent, holy night. Back to a night where a young girl, probably only sixteen or seventeen years old, came to Bethlehem with Joseph. I wonder what she thought about as Joseph led the way....When the inn keepers told them there was no room, what did she feel? Did she feel desperation-the need to control her surroundings, anxiousness for the safety of the baby, or fear? Or did she take comfort in knowing that the God of heaven was wrapped within her womb? And I think of us , here and now. Waiting for Christ to come again. Feeling left-out, different, unwelcomed because we are set-apart. We are His. There is no room for us here. And yet- in the womb of our hearts, every bit as real and close as the baby Jesus was within Mary, Christ dwells in us! What joy and what wonder the gift of Christ must have brought to all those present two thousand years ago! How rich and tangible was His presence! And yet- how wonderful and sweet and reachable His presence is still- to all those that trust in Him! Praise the Lord, for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of man!