Saturday, 21 December 2013

THE WORLD DOESN'T KNOW

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Birthdays are a tradition in my family. This inherent fact was proven when at 12:11am, my phone buzzed angrily and I could almost hear it saying “I’m sorry. I know it’s late but I can’t help it”, (since we had a fight the day before about its annoying crieswhich kept me from Snooze Ville). 

Well, the apology wasn’t all that necessary since I was awake – as wide-eyed as an owl. I checked the message and what do you know? It’s Mum! All armed with more prayers than I ever thought possible to be contained in an SMS – short message service – read; SHORT being the predominant word. I was just doing the digestion process when my phone gave another shrill cry. Phone call. Who do we have here?  Guess? Mum! I smiled as I picked the call, bracing up for the next prayer barrage. 

And trust Mum now, she didn’t disappoint at all as we proceeded to begin our prayer vigil, complete with music (the standard “Happy birthday to you” and “jolly good fellow”). I was really overwhelmed. This was just the beginning, I knew. Everyone in my family understood this tradition, everyone had the date etched in their memory, so I knew there would be more.



 Christmas is a tradition in the whole world. A time to love, share and remember, that time when God became a baby boy in swaddling clothes to remind us we are not alone. A time when all over the world one man becomes the reason why trees get all dressed-up, the reason why we remember gifts are for giving, the reason family members get together. A time when most people even celebrate the birthday without knowing the celebrant. That time when Christmas is Christmas.

My birthdays are important in my family, so is Christmas. Christmas is important to the whole world…what about my birthday? Everyone knows 25th of December. Do they know the 21st?

A baby was conceived of a scandal, he was born in horses and cows’ bowl of food, there were no standard birthing procedures or professionals; just his mum, dad and the animals…he was a carpenter’s son. Yet, over twenty centuries later, the whole world sets aside their busy schedules to celebrate this baby boy’s birthday.
What does my birthday have in common with Christmas?
Does my birth have a purpose?

Was I born to save the world?

Was my birth predestined by God?

Did angels herald my arrival? 

Will the world celebrate me long after I’m dead?

Yes, I was born with a purpose. Yes, I was born to save people (if not the whole world). Yes, my birth was predestined by God. Yes, angels heralded my arrival (believe it or not). But, will the world celebrate me long after I’m dead?

Okay, so it’s my birthday. I’m now officially an adult *shiver*...scaarryy! Another year gone, another year closer to my grave.

This is a sobering thought and I want you to take a few minutes to reflect on it. What do I have in common with Jesus? What will the world remember me for? Why am I still alive? Why was I born? After all, a birthday is not a celebration of when you were born so much as why you were born.



Side note: I'm really grateful to God for the precious gift of life...and all that comes with it. I was going to write something more poetic and riveting, but apparently my brain still doesn't get it...I'm older now "hello?" Maybe when I'm 21 then. Oh well, thank y'all for your wishes...I'm grateful. the world may not know yet but the ones who know mean the world. 


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