~Happy Birthday Jesus~

Stephanie Storey-Morant

“Does Jesus cry?” I questioned one day. It troubled me deeply so I went off to pray. I wondered how Jesus felt at this time. As thoughts of Christmas madness clouded my mind. All people think about are gifts and things. But do they give the greatest gift to our Savior and King? Do they give their lives as He once did for us? If they gave as unselfishly there would be no fuss. No, cause then they’d know true sacrifice. There would be no question of who’s naughty or nice. It should be your birthday that we celebrate. Isn’t it your giving that makes this day great? “Are you crying Jesus?” I wept in prayer. “Does it seem like we no longer care? After all you’ve done how do we repay? We’ve turn Christmas into a commercialized holiday. Listening to Christmas carols and waiting for Santa Claus. It appears the true meaning of Christmas has truly been lost. “I’m sorry Jesus – It’s gotten out of hand. I’m sorry you’re no longer part of the plan.” As lights are glistening, and sleigh bells ring. “Happy Birthday” I shall shout to my Savior and King. As your star shines brightly and snow fastly falls. “Happy Birthday, Jesus,” is what I shall call. “Don’t lay down fancy presents under a tree. This holiday season is not about me. It’s about a swaddled Savior in a manger he lay. Should one who died for us all, be born in the hay? And why have we forgotten who died on the cross? Why don’t we remember it was you who paid the cost? “Follow the star” three wise men once said. Then disciples resounded, “He lives. He’s not dead.” But we act like you’re dead, especially these days; when we think of candy, stockings, and reindeer-driven sleighs. We want to please others by the great gifts we choose. But all of this madness just gives me the blues.” Arising from my cozy bed I knelt very low. “I love you Jesus, just so you know. Cause sometimes I hear you crying late in the night. To me, there is no Silent Night. For you are near, watching us make more debt. Isn’t it a shame we haven’t gotten it yet? Christmas is so commercialized it clouds out your Peace. The spending, planning and receiving won’t cease. Not a moment do we thank you for the true meaning it seems, not even as visions of sugar plums invade our dreams. I’m crying too, for you, in fact. For Jesus I want the true meaning back. You died for me, no you died for us all. “Happy Birthday Jesus” is what I shall call.