The Magi opened their treasure and gave gifts. The word in the original Greek is Thesaurus. How appropriate when considering they came to worship the Incarnate Word. Each of us, in worship, searches for the right words to offer up to Him. Each of us summons from the depths of our heart and mind words that are worthy to give Him. Some are golden, some frankincense and others myrrh. Golden words are weighty and they shine, but when spoken in the Spirit, they shine on Him. Letters of the alphabet are plaited into crowns and are cast at the feet of the King of Kings, Lord of lords, and the Logos. Some words awaken the senses like Frankincense. They are spoken by those who have tasted and know that the “Lord is good.” In worship, the senses reach out and touch the hem of His seamless garment that smells of saffron, calmus, and the Rose of Sharron. Words of adoration pour forth from Alabaster boxes of broken and grateful hearts. They sing. Lastly, the Magi bring myrrh. Not like Nichodemus, who brought this spice to the tomb, or like soldiers that mixed it with wine at the cross, but we speak words that remind us when we come into the upper room of worship that He paid a high price to secure us a seat near Him at His table. We are the descendents of the wise men. We are a peculiar race who have been warned by God to go back home a different way than we came. No earthly Thesaurus holds words rich enough, but even widow’s mites ring the bells of heaven as they drop into the poor box of our paltry acts of worship and we bow before our King.     -id