One day. Two days. Three days. Four…
On what day does a new life take hold, wrap its fingers tightly round your heart, dig its roots deep into your soul, and sink its very spirit into your love?
None can measure a miracle of new life – whether it be a newborn breathing babe or a reborn broken self.
When we see – really see – the brokenness we each carry; and when we hear – really hear – that brokenness needn’t be the end of our story; and when we know – really know – that healed wholeness is offered in the form of forgiveness; and when we believe – really believe – that we are truly made new …
well, how many days does it take for that newness to feel real?
or, how many days might to take for that newness to be forgotten?
We do so easily forget things of deep import, things that rearrange our selves and remake our days. That’s because rearranged selves and remade days always require work and often result in pain.
By the once-for-all shed blood of Christ (the shed blood of the humble babe who was but four days old once-upon-a-time), we are made fully new in a moment.
By the ongoing surrendering of self (the self of the me who battles pride always-upon-a-time), we are made ever new moment by moment.
It is a long and weary process. It is a great and glorious pageant.
It is the trek and trod of all who follow The Way of the babe.
On the fourth night of Christmas, may you be overwhelmed not just by the Savior’s new life but also by the new life that is found only through the Savior.