Just six miles south of Jerusalem lies the place God chose
as the birthplace for his son. If it wasn’t impossible for God to have bad aim,
one might be tempted to think that he missed his target by six miles.
By all human standards, Jerusalem had everything going for
it as an indisputable favorite to host such momentous event.
Rich religious history.
Impressive tradition.
Glowing reputation.
Its facilities and resources were far
superior to anything Bethlehem had to offer for hosting the birth of God
incarnate. In the eyes of the event planners
selecting the caterer, Jerusalem would be the New York City’s Le Bernardin and Bethlehem...?
A banged up food
truck!
The real estate agents tell us it’s all about location. Location, location, location.
I find this very interesting.
Something inside me is naturally drawn to Jerusalem - its
buzz, action, excitement, the promise of significance and validation it seems
to offer. It’s the place to see and be seen.
I can be inside Jerusalem, so
engrossed by all the fascinating who’s whos from the invitation list and their impressive
resumes that I completely miss the Guest of Honor!
I can be inside Jerusalem and miss God by six miles.
No comments:
Post a Comment