Christmas Bows

I'm not good at gift-wrapping. I'm so unskilled in this department that when my kids receive a present from "Mom & Dad" they can always tell who wrapped it. My wife wraps her gifts with tight creases and neat hand-tied bows, while my raggedy presents are visibly patched with layers of Scotch tape.

Fortunately, I discovered those stick-on bows that have a sticky square of cardboard underneath. Peel away the plastic tag and press firmly, and even an amateur gift-wrapper like me can make a package look appealing. A nice bow can cover a multitude of flaws.

Lately, though, I've been thinking about a different kind of Christmas bow. Not the kind of bow that rhymes with "no," but the kind of bow that rhymes with "how." The holiday season is a good time to obey the Scriptural invitation, "Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker" (Psalm 95:6).

In some nations (Japan, for example) a bow is a common way to show respect, but in Western cultures we have a lot to learn about bowing. We're proud people. We like to hold our heads high, not drop them down in submission to another.

And kneeling? That's a posture of helplessness; you can't fight, or even run, when you're on your knees. Kneeling sounds like manual labor. You get down on your knees to scrub the kitchen floor or pull weeds in the garden.

There was a lot of bowing and kneeling going on when Jesus was born. Mary's submissive heart bowed to God's will when she said, "I am the Lord's servant" (Luke 1:38). Joseph bowed to God's will when he faithfully "did what . . . the Lord had commanded and took Mary home as his wife" (Matthew 1:24). Although the Bible doesn't say that the shepherds knelt down in their fields, it's hard to picture any other response when the glory of the Lord shone around them. And the Bible specifically notes that when the Magi came to the house where the Christ-child was staying, they "bowed down and worshiped" as they presented their gifts (Matthew 2:11).

I'm not good at gift-wrapping, and that includes the gifts I offer the Lord. No matter how hard I try to spruce up the outside, my life is a ragged package at best, with a lot of torn edges and taped-up corners. And a nice wrapper can't disguise what's inside.

But I can bow.

I can bow in reverent worship. I can bow in thankful prayer. I can bow in humble confession.

I willingly bow before the God who's lofty enough to design the universe and lowly enough to take the form of a babe in Bethlehem. I humbly bow before the God of creation and the cross, the God of holiness and hope, the God of redemption and resurrection. No sinner deserves to come near him, yet through the baby called Immanuel he made himself so accessible that anyone can approach his throne of grace.

Before a God like this, I will kneel in glad submission. Before a Father like this, I will kneel in awe and wonder—amid the warm bright lights of Christmas and the cold gray nights of winter.

The Bible says "at the name of Jesus every knee should bow" (Philippians 2:10).

I'm going to start now.