It's December third. The interior of the house is decorated, the tree is up and the first batch of Christmas cookies have been baked. This is the time when I feel like I'm teetering on the edge. I've been slowly chipping away at my nice list, but haven't wrapped a single gift.
It's now when I want time to both pass so we can get to Christmas eve service and slow down so I can make the magic last. The reality is, it doesn't matter what I want, time keeps passing. The day is over and I take stock at what I've done and in many ways it wasn't enough. I know once again, I came up short.
Today the Christmas devotional that I was reading referenced Luke 1:13-18 where Gabriel appears before Zechariah and tells him that God heard the prayers of Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth and that they would be blessed with a son. For years, Zechariah and his wife prayed, asking for a child and now the answer was yes.
Zechariah responds by questioning whether this could be true. Isn't that like us? We pray asking God for favor. And yet when he answers, we don't believe. It's a little crazy when you think about it. We can pray for years for a miracle. Why? Because we know that God has the power to make it so. We have faith and hope, but even after we experience other miracles and other evidence of God's power, we still doubt.
I believe. I believe that a Savior was born. I believe he was the Lamb of God, our mighty counselor. I believe he died and rose again. I believe he died for me and for you, whoever may be reading this. I believe he cares for each one of us.
I believe that God has the power to heal my mouth sores and make it so that they don't come back again. I believe God can heal me completely. I believe that tomorrow, I can get up out of bed, my back straight and strong. I ask this of him every day. Why? Because I know that one day, my angel may appear to me and tell me that God has heard my prayers. And when that happens, I pray that I simply fall upon my knees, praising God.