Remember when you were a little kid and you used to look forward to Christmas all year long? The day seemed positively magical and as it drew closer you could practically see visions of sugarplums dancing—and you didn’t even know what sugarplums were! The anticipation was so sweet and strong that you could almost taste it. Then that morning finally arrived and you rushed downstairs to see the beautiful tree and brightly wrapped gifts.
For a moment, all you could do was stand there in awe of the sight before you, maybe pausing to wonder if that’s how those shepherds had felt when they found the nativity. When you were at last allowed to open that first, mouthwatering package, you chose it with great care. Of course, we all know that within that brightly papered box was… a sweater.
We all tried not to show our disappointment. After all, maybe the next gift would be the special one. That one particular toy that you saw months ago and have been dropping hints about ever since. Your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, Sunday school teachers, and everyone else with whom you’ve had contact know it’s what you really want. However, the next package contained a scarf.
Recently, my life has been full of disappointment. I’ll be the first to say that I have no idea why I keep finding socks after scarf after sweater. I constantly struggle to turn my theology (the Lord gives and the Lord takes away) into doxology (blessed be the name of the Lord). Despite numerous momentary distractions, life continues its depressing assault. My question has become “how long, O Lord?” There must be a point and purpose. Wish I knew what it was!