I’ve read that a change of pace + a change of place = a change of perspective. This morning I find myself in a new place moving at a slower pace and gaining a fresh perspective as I look upon a stable across a meadow and reflect on a single life born in such a place – a life that has transformed the ages as well as transformed me.
This stable before me is far from perfect. In fact, it’s quite weather worn. It’s missing planks and many others are loose or askew. The gates are crooked. There’s an overall “tatteredness” about it. Over two thousand years ago, a young couple found themselves forced to call a shelter such as this the address where their child would be born. As I look out on this stable, I wouldn’t delight in calling it my bunk for the night, much less the birthing suite for my child. Yet, within this most imperfect structure emerged a loving Father’s gift of perfection capable of transforming all that is tattered.
A heritage of love, a heritage of giving, a heritage of perfection living among all that is imperfect.