Every year, it seems, a certain Christmas carol stands out to me – a different one every year. The song takes front and center stage. The words reverberate in my spirit and echo in my mind as I go about my holiday preparations. Every year I wonder: Which carol will it be this year?
Beginning in October, the words to a classic Christmas song rang out as we made plans for the Christmas Art Showcase:
“Come, they told me.
A newborn King to see!
Our finest gifts we bring
To lay before the King,
So to honor Him
When we come.”
“Really, God?” I groaned. “The Little Drummer Boy? It’s not even Biblical! It’s just a sappy, sentimental story about a little boy who wants to give a gift to the Christ Child.” But every time I listened to it or sang it to myself, a lump would come into my throat and tears would begin to well up. Every. Single. Time. “I guess that’s it,” I murmured to myself. “But what’s the message for me in this song?”
The words, “Our finest gifts we bring,” were especially highlighted to me. Finest — of the highest quality or excellence; the best example of something. “What is the finest gift I can bring You, King Jesus?”
Quickly, came the response, “Whatever makes it through the siftings of the finest sieve.”
“That’s the tiniest of particles,” I moaned. “But if that is what You want, then sift me again and again until all that’s left is what You want…reduce me to love.”
“As you are sifted, your words will be refined, and you will become your truest self,” He replied.
“That is what I want,” I declared. “Only the finest for my King!”
“Shall I write for You?” I cried out.
Silence hung in the air as I held my breath.
I picked up my pen, then placed it down again, then picked it up again. “SHALL I WRITE FOR YOU?” I scribbled in all capital letters. In agony, I awaited a response. Then I saw in my mind’s eye the Church…and she was nodding. Just like Mary in the song.
The room was so hushed, I could hear the scratching of my pen on the paper, and the clock on the wall kept time.
I wrote my story for Him.
I wrote my best for Him.
Then He smiled at me. Jesus smiled at me!
Me and my pen.
Me and my pen.
Me and my pen.
~ Janet F. Mueller, writer
~ photo by Natalie Rudisuli, Unsplash
