I’m sorry about the cake. I know it’s your birthday, and you really deserved something nice. Especially since you’re the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. You should have had a professional cake and not this mess.
I’d like to say it’s not my fault – the batter was inexplicably drier this year – but we both know that’s not the real reason. I was lazy and cut corners by not putting the waxed paper in the bottom of the pans. So when one layer came out in pieces and the other layer looked like it had been run over with a lawnmower…well, you and I know the truth.
Oh, I managed to cover it up pretty well. You know, just in case the neighbors look in the window. It looks good on the outside.
But it’s too late to fool the family. They saw the disaster. They know it’s just a cover-up. And one good look at the inside will remove any doubt.
But you already knew, too, didn’t you, Jesus?
You weren’t fooled by my attempts at keeping up appearances. You’ve seen the ruin on the inside – all the mistakes, the broken parts, the crumbs, the dry places. And You can’t wait to sit down and spend time with me over this mess of a cake.
That’s why You came, isn’t it?
For people who can’t “get it together” despite desperate attempts to convince everyone else that we do, indeed, “have it together.”
My cake isn’t much of a birthday present, Jesus, and neither is my life. But Christmas isn’t really about giving You a present, is it?
You are the present. And I’m on the receiving end.
So thank you. Thank you for forgiveness and love and acceptance and adoption and peace with God and life transformation. Thank you for looking at my cake – and my life – and loving it.
Thank you for coming.
Your Cherished One,
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