instrument of incarnation

During this season of Advent, I have had a heightened sense of anticipation about the arrival of the newborn King. As I have had the privilege of being involved in worship planning for our Advent services at Immanuel, as I have listened intently to my pastor's thought-provoking sermons, as I have read Scripture aloud in worship, as I have listened to choirs sing, as I have sat quietly alone in a beautifully decorated sanctuary during my morning devotions, the story of Christ's birth has fallen freshly upon my ears. With childlike wonder I have been struck by the vibrancy of the story. As Mary contemplated all the events surrounding the birth of her precious son, Luke tells us that she "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Like Mary, I have been doing a lot of pondering these days.

One morning this week I came across these words in Calvin Miller's The Christ of Christmas: Readings for Advent: "How much convincing does it really take to share with someone the blessings of Christmas? The world rarely responds to our profound arguments. It is rarely moved by our wise perspectives, even when we present them well. It is more often won by our thoughtfulness than our theology. It is more often drawn to God by His presence in our lives than by our persuasion. It is our Christ, not our creed, which captures people's hearts." In his concluding prayer, Miller wrote: "Lord, make me an instrument of your incarnation. Live in me until my life is so submerged in Yours that I am invisible. Wherever I go, whatever I do, may I hear those around me breathe the word Immanuel, suggesting that I am nothing and You are everything."

What does it look like to be an instrument of incarnation? That's what I'm pondering today.