Merry Christmas to me!

I remember when I was a little girl, how the Christmas season would mesmerize me.  I guess I've always been somewhat of an "Anne Shirley" kind of girl--a bit dramatic for my own good at times(my boys can attest to that).  It's not difficult for me to completely lose myself in the world of a good book or a movie and feel almost every emotion of the character that draws me.  So, as a child, it was natural and effortless to insert myself into the whole idea of what Christmas represented to me back then.  Let me explain. I always wanted to be one of those TV kids who was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. I would imagine that my mom and dad let me sleep on a beautiful couch in front of the fireplace, and the candles would cast a beautiful dim light in the room.   I would stay awake as long as I could, but just as I drift off to sleep, I would be gently awakened by someone stirring in the room.  Then, I would see him.  Somehow, he would know that I was no longer asleep and would turn and look at me.  He might even address me by name, because everyone knows that Santa knows the names of all of the kids in the world.  And we would have this conversation and it would be so magical and cool and his eyes really would twinkle at me as we talked. You get the picture.  I'm not a child anymore, but recently I have been feeling the Holy Spirit calling me back to my girlhood ways of accepting certain Scriptural things for what they really are.  I've been thinking about what Jesus said in Mark 10:15, " 'Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in.' Then, gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them." How many times do I complicate the issues of life to the point of not being able to take hold of the things I need from Him?  The very things available to me that Jesus died to give me seem so hard to attain because I've created so many hoops for me to have to jump through to get to them.  This is not at all what He had in mind as He laid in the manger.  It's not what He desperately wanted for me as He was hanging on the cross enduring unspeakable pain that I will never understand.  He came and became just like me.  He was a baby, he was a child, he was a teenager. He experienced disappointment, disillusionment, betrayal, and fear.  He knows what it's like to pray desperately for God to answer one way, only to be answered in a way that runs contrary to what the flesh wants.  So, this Christmas, I'm going to purpose in my heart to be a little girl again.  My daddy was larger than life then, so if he told me anything at all, I believed it and never dreamed of doubting what he said.  How much more can I trust Someone Who took my place and hung and died on a cross so I wouldn't have to?  If He tells me that I don't have to live with guilt, then I am a fool if I hang on to it any longer.  If He tells me that He died to set me free from the law of sin and death, then I'm really free from it. If He tells me that He hasn't given me a spirit of fear, but one of love, power, and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7), then why would I not believe Him and walk in that?  I feel certain He would pinky-promise me.  My earthly daddy would have. So, this Christmas, I'm giving myself an unusual gift.  I'm going to allow myself to be a little girl again and throw my heart on the altar and believe Jesus when He tells me He has already given me everything I need that is suited to life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3).  I will become one of those little girls that couldn't resist running up to Him when He walked on the dusty soil far across the sea.  I can imagine myself taking a running jump and landing in His arms and His smile warms my heart and I know instantly that He loves me.  I will allow myself to be completely captivated by Him this Christmas.  I know He is unlikely to come down my chimney dressed in a red suit and boots, and if I sleep on my couch on the 24th, I doubt if I'll awaken to see Him working diligently to place gifts under our tree. After all, He is the gift. But I'm pretty sure that He does know me by name and that He loves to have conversation with me.  And I even believe that His eyes really do twinkle.  The Santa of my youth has long been replaced with a Wonderful Counselor, a Mighty God, an Everlasting Father, a Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6).  My prayer is that you will see Him with me.  Merry Christmas!