And the vision I saw was just like the vision that I had seen when he came to destroy the city, and just like the vision that I had seen by the Chebar canal. And I fell on my face. As the glory of the LORD entered the temple by the gate facing east, the Spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court; and behold, the glory of the LORD filled the temple.
For me, the wild motivation of the Magi (or Wise Men) in Matthew 2 is sometimes reduced by otherwise beautiful nativity scenes and Christmas carol lyrics. These great men were driven by a vision of more than star. They knew why Ezekiel fell on his face. They had a deep, passionate vision concerning what the star meant and Who the star was about. Whatever lives they had before became subjugated by this all-consuming and shared vision. They had a fellowship of vision. Their vision, and not merely their quest, is what robbed Herod of his sleep. It could not be dismissed. Herod responded horribly. (The terror of what seems to be daily shooting sprees in the United States may begin to approach the terror of Bethlehem as willing soldiers went from house to house murdering certain small children all because of a king’s profound insecurity. Talk about a deadly entitlement mindset!)
Vision like the Magi had is not whimsical. It is not the stuff of wishes or fancy. It is heavy. If ignored, it crushes one’s heart and will not let up. It must be dealt with. When God gives a vision, He is not playing a game. I’ve learned this lesson the hard way. Advent and Christmas are only full and true in our hearts when we begin to have a vision for what they mean, for what the birth of Christ means for us… for eternity.