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Yesterday, my wife drew a bundle of tangled cords from the closet. After working with them for a while, she strung them across our front entrance, turning them into a gentle decoration. Around this season, it has become her cherished ritual to welcome Christmas.

They are not dazzling fireworks, yet when these lights glow, they kindle a quiet warmth within. They shine as lights of hope—remembering Jesus who came as the Light of the world two thousand years ago to save us, and awaiting His return to bring salvation to completion.

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.