pondering today, my heart is, the Christmas story and what it means to me.

Happy Holidays?

Happy?

Merry Christmas?

Merry?

What was happy or merry about this burst of God-flesh being born in the filth of a barn, laid in straw, and rushed away to Egypt to save his life at just a few months old, while the mothers of Israel wept in anguish for their slaughtered babies?

what was happy or merry about the fact that there were no children within two years of his age in his town, because they had all been murdered in a desperate search for him?

this baby was born in the shadows.

lived his life in the shadow of a looming cross.

Those of us who thoughtfully follow him because we love him, ache for the years he must have spent even as a child- looking into the future to the horror that waited there for him.

a baby in the shadow of the cross.

a little boy knowing he was going to die.

a young man preparing himself to be a sacrificial lamb.

a messiah walking with measured tread the long slow road to calvary.

not happy, not merry.

ponder it, think about it, oh heart of mine.

and somehow find a way to celebrate a joyous season with deep reverence for the shadow of the cross.