Baby's Breath

I will sing to the LORD, for He has triumphed gloriously, hurling worry and strife, horse and rider, into the sea.

He has made a clear path through the mess we call Christmas.

Taking hold of faith, storms of overwhelm are pushed back and held at bay.

For many waters cannot quench love.  (Song of Sol. 8:7)
 

Wrappings, glitz, and noise stripped away, we are left with a baby, Jesus made flesh.  He remains through all our years, generations past and future, the hope of mankind.

Walls of water cannot crush, for He upholds with His righteous right hand.  Who is like Him?  Majestic in holiness, awesome in power, working wonders?  There is no one.

And all this by the breath of His mouth . . . Yahweh.  The Breath of Heaven which holds us together through fitful waters . . . baby's breath.

Children slumber in the room by the tree.  The house is dark and quiet . . . except. . . for breathing.  All I hear is consistent inhale and exhale, like . . . Yahweh.

Only the breath of God's Spirit can make His Word come so alive and meet me at the point of my need at Christmas.  Who would have thought Israel crossing the Red Sea would turn my heart toward the child in a manger?

Surely, it is God who leads His redeemed people on dry paths.  His mighty power guides us to His sacred home, our place of refuge.

My prayer is that you too, may find your rest in Him.

Merry Christmas!