The Cry Over Bethlehem: Sheen’s Christmas Illumination
A brief meditation on perseverance, love, and the sacred work of walking beyond the ordinary—where Christ meets the willing and the world is quietly renewed.
Carry on, my wayward children of the extra mile—not because the road is easy, but because we know what happens when we stop short. When people stop living by what they believe, they eventually believe only what is easy to live. Our age proves it daily. Convenience becomes conviction. Comfort becomes creed. The ordinary becomes the ceiling of aspiration. And in such a world, it becomes easy for neighbor to blame neighbor.
But love—real love—never settles for the first mile.
The Christian is called to rise above the average, not by talent, but by persevering service. Character is not formed in the mile we are required to walk, but in the mile we choose to walk beyond. The second mile is where love becomes labor, and labor becomes joy. And the promise beyond that is great joy.
We all feel the pull toward the easier path. We all know the temptation to settle for “good enough.” But love keeps tugging us forward.
In a culture that rewards shortcuts, the soul is renewed by steadfastness. In a world that celebrates the effortless, God still crowns the faithful. The ordinary may be crowded, but the extraordinary is always open to those who refuse to stop where duty ends.
The world is lifted by those who work with love, serve with endurance, and give more than the moment demands. The second mile is still the place where Christ walks—and where His followers learn to become not merely good, but good stewards, faithful until the end.
It is the pattern the disciples discovered on the road to Emmaus: Christ is found not in the mile of obligation, but in the mile of devotion—the mile where hearts burn, eyes open, and the ordinary becomes radiant with grace. So, carry on, friend. The second mile is not for the perfect—it is for the willing. And Christ meets the willing every time, for the world is in great need of such souls.
~ G.C. Stevenson