My mother raised me mostly without a father and we moved around a lot. As a young man, I had few friends and was prone to uncontrollable anger. I only cared about myself and my desires, which I indulged at every opportunity. That ended almost forty years ago.
While hunting elk alone one winter on a mountainside in Montana, that selfish, angry young man died. A new and different man was born. Once an adamant skeptic, I was no longer fatherless, but became a son of the Father of all who believe in his son, Jesus Christ.
After that, everything about me changed for the better. It was a genuine miracle. You can ask anybody who knew me back then. It wasn’t self talk or wishful thinking; I’m not that strong. Nor was it absent father syndrome or mass delusion.
But the greater miracle is that the Father of mercies came down for every one of us in the form of his own son. Through a miraculous birth, he submitted himself to the same barriers that we have and became a servant of us all. Then he surrendered his life to his enemies and opened the way back to the Father. What could be more miraculous?
This Christmas, I challenge you to rethink what you’re celebrating and to dare to believe in miracles. A new life could be waiting for you.
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