The menacing eyes, peering from the shadow of the polished steel helmet and crimson crest, fell to the bundle in Mary’s arms.
Author: Merle Mullet
A farmer knows, the seeds we sow are the seeds we harvest. Except by God's grace, life works that way most of the time. I am deeply indebted to my creator, the one and only true God who gives life to all things by his grace, through his son Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the lessons I've learned from my farming heritage and the privilege of partnering in the cycle of life each new growing season.
The infant king: Having nursed, was sleeping; blissfully unaware of the stir his arrival had created.
Joseph placed fresh hay in the manger. It’s sweet aroma, mingled with the pungent odors of the stable, created a rich earthy incense that filled the air.
By eternal design, the lowly shepherds became the first to pay homage to their Messiah, the infant king lying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes.
His eyes became vacant, black holes where a fire had begun to smolder.
The tender emotion loosened the knot in his chest, but ended abruptly when the reality struck…She was dead!
And so began, the dangerous journey of the Magi.
She was to be pregnant; not by normal earthly means, but God himself would be the father.
Rome’s greed, and the lust for power of Caesar Augustus, had made him a useful instrument for God’s purposes.
Beads of sweat on Mary’s brow plastered wisps of hair to the sides of her face…the new life growing in her womb had no regard for their need of shelter…