The Train Station

Standing in the bitter cold with a bunch of strangers isn't exactly what someone might call "a rager of a Friday night", especially with Christmas coming up in just a few days. 

I was watching the people around me peer down the train tracks waiting for the train car so that we could climb out of the cold (because the light rail cars here in Denver are very well heated, I assure you). And once we were inside the expectation of heat and a time to rest began to wear off. And before you know it we are all sitting in silence completely absorbed in our own worlds. 

How similar to the human condition.

Let me explain; as usual I tend to look deeper into things. You see, in my mind I am now talking about the history of the human race as we know it, and more specifically the night before Christmas. You know, the night where a virgin lay sweating in a barn with her husband by her side, holding her hand as the baby is coming. Her cries in the darkness heard only by the cows and sheep, and maybe a midwife. I think this peering down the train tracks shows us the faithful people, who are believing in the promises of God even when the cold sets in. Tonight the train was coming, we knew it was, and we knew that it would take us where we needed to go; much as the people of Israel knew and believed that God would come to deliver them. And this warmth, oh the warmth! The thawing out of hands ears and noses. Just like the thawing of our hard hearts and minds.

But, there is also the self-centered-ness that is to come. We lose sight of how precious this gift is, and start treating the warmth as if we deserve it. All the while new stragglers are hoping on, feeling the warmth and reminding us of the world that is outside. And who knows, we may even think that we would be better off off of this train (mistake). I mean it stops in the places we don't want to stop and lets on new and unfamiliar people. We come to expect that this is all for our comfort and not for the salvation-or the gathering- of Gods children back to His kingdom.

So I urge you, my brothers and sisters, to remember this "train". Remember how it felt before you knew grace and all you could feel was that biting cold. Remember the darkness so that you can sit by the door and cry out to those still wandering in it. And remember our Savior, our direct line to God, who came down from heaven into the cold and darkness so that we might live. Merry Christmas from line E, Denver light rail.