The ancient of days

He lies in a manger, yet the heavens bow before Him, for He holds the entire world in His hand.

He is wrapped in swaddling clothes, fragile and small, yet through Him, we are clothed in the splendor of immortality.

There is no room for Him in the inn, no earthly shelter for the King of Glory, yet He prepares for Himself a dwelling place within the hearts of those who believe.

The One who spoke the stars into being chose the silence of humility, that we might hear his voice.

For Strength clothed itself in weakness, that our weakness might be made strong.

Majesty stooped low, that the broken might be lifted high.

The Ancient of Days entered time, that eternity might open its arms to us.

This is the wonder of His coming: the limitless God chose to embrace our limits, that we might one day embrace the fullness of His glory.

And such a God as this, numbers your very hairs on your head.

He sees you, even here.🤍