The last couple of months have looked something like this:
grenades and poverty and anger and immigration and violence and gunshots and hunger and pain and immigration and frustration and smell and exhaustion and sun and immigration and tension and politics and elections and traffic and strikes and exploding showers and immigration and no water and theft and dust
flights and cold and sickness and wedding and travel and seeing people and coffee and small talk and food and wrapping paper and Christmas lights and extravagance and greed and shopping and turkey and more travel and family and conversation and carols and mince pies and rain and long, dark days
Somewhere in the midst of all this a little baby is born. Born not to the palace, not to the royalty, not into the rich, clean, ordered and quiet place but into the slum, into the poverty, into the pain. He was born into the chaos, the bureaucracy of the census, the noise and dirt of the backstreets of a poor, unknown town. He was born into the middle of all that. Yet in it all he came as Prince of Peace.
And He is born into the middle of all this. He comes as Prince of Peace.
In my business and in my confusion, with my mind exploding, I forget this. Or rather, I choose to ignore it. But not matter how much I may choose to forget and ignore, it doesn’t change the truth. He is Prince of Peace. What’s true cannot be changed.
Happy, happy Christmas and every blessing for the year ahead.