I drove past our local garden center yesterday. Their outdoor sign read, "Permanent Christmas trees." Hmm. That phrase made me stop and think a minute. Permanent Christmas trees.....or, how about, permanent Christmas?
Every year, thousands of people go and buy a beautiful, live, cut Christmas tree to display in their home. And every year after the season is over, thousands of people haul said tree out to the woods or the trash and dispose of it in a timely manner.
It's served its purpose, done its duty, and is now to be tossed. The same icon that was so necessary to herald in the season is put out to pasture, soon to be forgotten.
I'm afraid sometimes I do that with Jesus. I feel the desperate need for Him for a season, and then things get better, easier, and I tend to take over. And while I don't exactly haul Him to the dumpster when simpler days come along, soon there's a bit of dust on my Bible and I find myself shooting up quick prayers of apology that I don't have more time to spend with Him because life is good again and I'm just too busy.
Just like a permanent Christmas tree can be taken home, invited in, and planted in soil to root and grow, I need to remember that because I've asked Him to be there, Jesus is a permanent resident in my heart. It's always Christmas, because the gift of Him is always there, walking with me day by day. As He takes hold of my life and I find myself rooted and growing in Him, it becomes clear that there's no other place I'd rather be.
He's found a permanent home in me.