I remember standing in the long line at the mall (or Sears, in my case) waiting to see the big bearded man dressed in red. He was larger than life and especially jovial. After all, he made all our wishes come true!
I admit my climb onto Santa's lap was done so with one mission in mind (okay, maybe two, if you count the cherry lollipop): To present him with the list. You know the one. Dolls, dresses, Easy-Bake Oven, and such. Everything I wanted, desired, and wished for carefully printed on blue-ruled 8 x 10-1/2” paper. It only took a bit of exertion on my part, a quick rundown of my list, and I was on my way home feeling warm and fuzzy inside. All was right with the world.
I thought those days were behind me, but recently I became aware of how many of my prayers often began with:
"Show me ..."
"Reveal to me ..."
"Please heal ..."
"Lord, bless ..."
Granted, Jesus tells us in the New Testament to ask. There’s nothing wrong with asking. However, to approach a holy God much in the same way I once approached a red-suited minimum-waged man with a fake-o beard is to miss out on the richest of relationships, as well as the power of prayer.
I am resolved never to trade in a place at my Father's feet again. Though warm fuzzy feelings are never a guarantee, the true presence of a holy, loving, forgiving and merciful Father is—and that’s more than this daughter of the King could ever ask for or imagine.
Perhaps you, too, have at times traded a place at our Father’s feet for Santa’s lap. We missed out on the true meaning of prayer for awhile, didn’t we? But thanks be to the One we celebrate this Christmas, and every day. We can know there is always room for us at His feet.
(Photo courtesy of morguefile and kakisky.)
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