The tiny fairytale town I live in is so quiet this morning, on Ebenezer's walk I heard the rush of the creek that runs beside the town.
Spending time contemplating the 'reason for the season' I found I could not remain in 'Christmas'.
Without the Cross, the birth of Christ is a mute point, a mother's story, a sweet refrain.
Without the Resurrection, the Cross is only a painful murder.
Without the Return of Christ for his Bride we are stuck in this evil world.
So I REJOICE this morning and wait in anticipation for His returning to recapture His Bride, the Church. I trim my lantern. I wait with baited breath for God, the great three in one to return. I will dedicate extreme service without complaint and expect no explanation from the Great God who needs not give any.
your mutating missionary