Sundays are great. I have always loved the church / lunch routine and it doesn't feel like a Sunday unless that routine happens.
Then I end up driving home or wherever, from lunch, and thinking / counting my blessings.
I was driving yesterday afternoon and thanking God for everything He's blessed me with this Christmas season and in my life, and something occurred to me:
I don't love the Lord because He's given me what I've asked for;
I love Him because I never deserved any of it.
It brought tears to my eyes. It started out with me thanking God for His faithfulness in answering my prayers for certain things, starting with the very first prayer I remember being answered - when I was little and prayed for a sister even though my mom said no more kids.
Why me, though? Why does God care so much about me that He would give me the little things I ask for? There's no reason. I'm a sinner like everyone else.
I can be hateful and judgmental and ungrateful and stagnant.
I don't deserve the things I ask Him for, yet He gives them as He sees fit.
Sometimes He says no and gives me something even better.
And I don't deserve any of it.
The reason we celebrate Christmas is because God gave us a gift we didn't deserve. We needed a Savior, otherwise we would all be doomed because of our sin.
Even a baller church play with live camels can't do it justice - the glory of God is incomprehensible.
Yet He listens to all my prayers, complaints, yearnings, whining, pettiness...
And He answers me even though I don't deserve any of it.
That's why I will forever praise Him.
"Because He bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath."