|Photo by oneselfsacrifice|
Thursday, December 27, 2012
As I think of Christmas, I think of a story retold every Christmas in the forests of Provence in southern France. It’s about four shepherds who came to Bethlehem to see the child. One brought eggs, another bread and cheese, the third brought wine. And the fourth brought nothing at all. People called him L’Enchanté.
The first three shepherds chatted with Mary and Joseph, commenting on how well Mary looked. They spoke about how cozy the cave was and how Joseph had done a great job making it that way. They talked about the weather and the beautiful starlit night. They congratulated the proud parents, presented them with their gifts and assured them that if they needed anything else, they had only ask.
Finally someone asked, “Where is L’Enchanté?” They searched high and low, up and down, inside and out. Finally, someone peeked through the blanket hung against the draft, into the crèche. There kneeling at the crib was L’Enchanté—the Enchanted One. Like a flag or flame taking direction of the wind, he had taken direction of love. Throughout the entire night, he stayed in adoration, whispering, “Jesu, Jesu, Jesu—Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
Oh, how I want to be like L’Enchanté, to sing with all my heart and express with all of my life my love for Jesus. The carol, “O Come All Ye Faithful,” says it well, “O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.”
Jesus doesn’t need my gifts. He wants my love.
O come let us adore Him!