“Mary gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room available for them.” Luke 2:4-7
Lord Jesus, no detail of your incarnation was left to chance, including the precise location of your entrance into the world. So “no room” isn’t commentary on inhospitable innkeepers. But whether because of an unguarded heart (King David), a busy, distracted spirit (Martha), a season of angry running (Jonah), or valuing human relationships above intimacy with you (Matt.10:37; Ps.73:25-26), it’s worth considering how the phrase “no room” describes us at the end of 2023. Show us, Lord.
Maybe the best way to recognize how you’ve become less central in our hearts (Matt.24:12; Rev.2:4), is to marvel afresh at how you have made room for us in your heart. When it comes to repentance, your grace is always more effective than our shame. Indeed, Jesus, we didn’t invite you into our hearts; you gave us new hearts. Only your love for us is better than life (Ps.63:3). Only your love can heal, fill, and transform us (Eph.3:18-20). In our most Gospel-sane moments, we know this to be true. The Gospel is the greatest welcome and intimacy we will ever know.
Jesus, whatever “making room” for the One who fills all things (Eph.1:23) is supposed to look like, we welcome you afresh. We welcome you into the place of our deepest longings… stubborn unbelief… undealt with wounds… “broken cisterns” (Jer.2:13), and complex web of relationships. We don’t want you to be first in our lives, Jesus. We want you as our everything. So Very Amen.