God is always on time, yet I often wonder why He waits so long.
I tilt the scissor’s blade against the length of bright red ribbon. Curls slither through my fingers in tiny ringlets where they bunch against a shiny Christmas box making a colorful bow.
Time, like strands of ribbon, moved through generations waiting for the fulfillment of a promise.
It hovered over Israel for thousands of years, just out of grasp to the millions who lived and died before seeing the promise fulfilled.
Until it was the right time.
“In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus…” events foretold were set in motion. Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem. “And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth.” Luke 2:1,6; ESV.
God owns time. He created it. He holds it in His hands, marks its seasons and moves it toward His purposes. The birth of Jesus was stamped in His timetable.
The circumstances of my days unscroll by His direction and His timing is always precise.
“But do not let this one fact escape your notice, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.” 2 Peter 3:8; NASB.
And so it was that the Ancient of Days drew breath as a newborn babe.