I never get tired of the story of the first Christmas.
I love hearing the familiar words and imagining just what it would have been like for Mary when the angel first appeared to her, or for Elizabeth when the baby in her belly leaped for joy, or for the shepherds when a multitude of angels showed up in the silence of the countryside and proclaimed good tidings of great joy.
And then, after all of that, the wise men.
The story of their journey to see the Messiah tells of faith and persistence, danger and intrigue, adoration and obedience.
Even though by some standards they showed up a little late.
They saw no angel, no swaddling clothes, no manger, no shepherds, no newborn baby. They even thought they lost their way at one point. But they came. Slowly but surely, they followed that star until they found the promised Jesus and brought Him their gifts.
There's something there I can relate to.
My own journey is a little like that. My progress is slow, I find lots of obstacles, and sometimes I think I may have lost my way. But little by little, I'm making my way closer to Jesus, and because He's so gracious, He doesn't seem to mind that I'm always a little late.
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