The Cross Wreath

     He came to die.
     On this first day of December, I awoke way too early.  As I lay in bed, that familiar mixture of two competing emotions washed over me.  First, indefatigable excitement and anticipation over the wondrous gift of celebrating the coming of Christ.  Aren't we all like a bit of a child at Christmas?  We sense still, even in our "older" age, that indefinable joy and magic associated with the celebration of the remarkable birth of our Savior.  It truly is "the most wonderful time of the year."  But then secondly, there was that lurking panic, hidden deep in the recesses of my mind--O boy, how will we get it all done again this year?  So much to do, so little time... mercy, I'm tired thinking about it.
     So on this first day of this joyous month, I just needed the reminder: He came to die. Sure, He came as a precious infant born in a stable beside lowing cows and curly-haired sheep.  What a marvelous story we never tire of hearing!  Donkey carrying, innkeepers refusing, Joseph lovingly tending, shepherds watching,  angels singing, shepherds and wisemen worshipping.
     But all of it, every single bit of this most wonderful of stories led inexorably to the cross.
     From the cradle to the cross.  For us.  An infant Savior born to save us from our sins.  He came to our home on earth as a baby so that we might come to His home in heaven.  One place: beautiful, wonderful in many ways but temporary and imperfect and sometimes hard and dark.  The other place: eternal, perfect, glorious, wondrous and full of light and love and endless joy.  He came to seek and to save so that we might savor and stay with Him forever in His home.
     That's why I love our cross wreath.  Young Life gets them from God's good mountains.  Fresh, fragrant boughs from the hardy trees our Lord created.  A bit wild and untamed.  Like our beautiful planet fashioned by His hands.  He loves this old world--He lived in it, and walked on it, and ate on it, and laughed on it, and talked on it.  A wreath from His world to celebrate the coming of the Baby King.
     But in the shape of a cross to remind us that the Baby King came to die a horrific death in order that our sins might be crucified and covered by His blood.  A harsh, terrible reminder in the midst of all the holiday hoopla.  My sin caused His death, but His love prompted His coming.  He knew we'd fail Him and forget Him, even at this very time of year when we are trying to celebrate His arrival... but He came anyway.  Came with joy.  Came with wonder. Came with love. Came with hope.
    Came with the shadow of a cross covering His tiny cradle.
    So today, on this very first day of December, might we initiate the joyous celebration of this season... but all the while carrying in our hearts the memory of a Savior trudging up the road to Calvary under the weight of a rough wooden cross.
     He came as a baby. How I love it!  But He came to die... and He came to give us LIFE.  Praise God for the cradle and the cross.  To God, our Infant Savior, be all the glory.