Friday, December 23, 2011


I have a proclivity for worship.

If I were married, my husband would be my god.

If I lived a middle-class life, a perfect lifestyle would be my crowning glory.

If I had money, a bank account would be my king.

If I had children, they would be little gods to me.

By some kind of grace - though it doesn't always feel like grace - I am not at a point in my life where I am worshipping a regular person, or an ideology, or a lifestyle, though God knows how close I've come to each.

(I hoard my little idols. In fact, without much effort, I could easily end up like those junk-pile ladies in Labyrinth):

So, this Christmas, I look to Jesus, the author of my life, who knows so perfectly what I need. What else have I to bring him, and what more does He ask for, than my worship?

What is there here for me? Are these like Him?

No comments:

Post a Comment