Breath of Heaven

So many thoughts fill my head these days.  It has been a year of blessings, some of them in disguise.  A year of joy, and of repaired relationships. But, of late, it seems that tragedy is all around us.  Division and unrest seem to eat away at all that is good about this world, this country, and the people in it.  Breathe.

It was an election year. And we argued and fussed about who would best serve our interests. Just when we thought we could take a break from the constant debate and endless news coverage of political agendas, tragedy struck in Oregon and Connecticut and Pennsylvania, and the noise continues. Some yell for gun control, others for treatment of mental illness, some would have armed teachers or police or soldiers in our schools.  The image terrifies me. Breathe.

So, of late I have felt a bit melancholic.  Where is God in all of this?  Why can't I feel him.  Sometimes, if felt as if my heart had grown cold toward him.  Breathe.

As if in answer to a prayer, I received a Christmas letter from a very special friend of mine.  Her name is Andrea, and our families are linked by God in a very special way.  So, I plagiarize part of her letter here.  After I read it, my heart warmed and I once again could turn to my Abba and say, "breathe your Spirit over me, fill me with the Breath of Heaven". 

From Andrea: When Christ our King came into the world, being God, He could have chosen to be born in a palace.  He could have lived a life of splendor more befitting His Divine Kingship.  Instead, He chose the cold, harsh poverty of a cave hewn in rock.  His Kingship is not of this world, and it is not this world's luxuries and successes He sought, nor do they fulfill the human heart.

Christ is not opposed to entering into cold, harsh poverties.  It is His delight to do so, even if the cold, harsh poverty lies within our own heart.  He readily joins us there.  Are we like the inn, so busy and bustling with our own temporary lives and the lives of those around us, so filled will passing amusements, that there remains "no room in the inn" when our Lord gently knocks?  Or, are we like the rocky cave?  Rough and imperfect, to be sure.  But with what joy does the Master enter our cold hearts if we but avail ourselves to the transforming power of love from the source of all love.  End quote.

Thanks Andrea, for the marvelous gift of those words, just when I needed them.  Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and may the Breath of Heaven fill you with strength and courage and hope.