The light
draws me in – mysterious, divine, compelling.
I feel as
though I am given a simple choice – follow the star and find the elusive answer
or potentially live with a lingering, nagging wonder… where would the star
have taken me?
Keeping the
star in my sights, I persevere into the future. I am not yet sure if the
brilliant light is just a mirage, a guide, or my ultimate destination. All I am
sure of is that I must find the answer.
The journey
is hard, but I continue to wander over mountains and through deep ravines. On
occasion I stop to refresh and refocus on the great, glimmering goal. The
wilderness is the toughest part of the quest; it is the audible silence that
casts doubt on my desire for the light, but I push on.
My
companions offer words of encouragement as we edge closer to the star. The
mystery grows daily – larger and more pronounced, like a young pregnant mother
watching the growth of her child from outside her stomach. Our questions are
laced with nervous excitement and our words offer a hopeful consolation: have
we made the right choice?
Wearily, but
rhythmically, we plod on. At some point in the early evening, we are arrested
by the silent, stationary star. Its arc has come to rest above an obscure and
unlikely home. There are no magnificent palatial walls to mark the birth of
this unique child. Where are the consorts and servants? Why are there no royal
guards or physicians? There is no smell of a thousand fires, lit to feed the
multitudes come to honour the king.
Perhaps this
is all wrong? Has our wisdom been nothing but foolish guessing?
Yet, there
is a faint sound emanating from a home on the eastern hillside. We see a dull
light coming from the rudimentary shelter. In truth, it’s more like a stable,
but there are signs of life coming from the open doorway. It is the voice of a weary
young man, followed by the prayer of an emotionally drained teenage mother: Thank
you for this gift, Yahweh!
In my heart
I sense we have come to the appointed place, but my gut-feeling is confirmed
when the sound of the angelic choir rises overhead. I have never heard hundreds
of voices combine to this effect before. The overall message resounds as one,
yet it is as if each distinctive voice is heard: Glory to the King!
Our hope is
finally rewarded in this delightful moment. We choose to respectfully bow to
the young parents, before we kneel before the child. It seems fitting that we
honour the infant boy and as we rise from the dusty floor, the star reflects in
his new-born eyes.
The gifts
are for him, but we wonder if they are worthy enough for this special child.
Will he even need them? Perhaps in the end he won’t, but it is what they truly
represent that we have come to offer. Each precious treasure conveys the
message of our hearts. We have found what we were looking for and now He
deserves our genuine response.
And so, we
offer Him:
Our allegiance.
Our resources. Our All.
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