We've Come To Worship

I keep thinking about the wise men.

They were not insiders.
Not disciples.
Not prophets waiting in the temple.

They were scholars who studied the sky.
Men who paid attention when the rest of the world went on with life.
Men who noticed a single star shift and understood that something holy had entered the world.

Before they ever saw His face, they made their decision.

They packed their treasures.
Left their routines.
Crossed deserts and kingdoms just to stand in front of a child who had not spoken a word.

Scripture says they fell down and worshiped.

No miracles.
No crowds.
No sermons.

Just a child.
Just a promise.
Just the presence of God in a place most people would have walked past without a second thought.

I have been thinking about that.

Because worship is not a song.
It is not a special feeling that suddenly arrives.
It is not limited to a sanctuary or a stage.
It is not something I do with empty habits and good intentions.

Worship is the moment I recognize Jesus for who He is.
The moment I bring Him what He is worth.
The moment I see the path He has placed before me and choose to follow.

Those men were the first to worship.
But they were not the last.

Every time I bow my heart or offer what I have, I am stepping into their story.
I am joining their long walk toward a King who still welcomes anyone who comes with open hands.

And this Christmas, I find myself standing with those wise men and saying their words again.

We have come to worship.

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