Merry Christmas
Imagine a manger:
The Great I Am coming down to earth as the Christmas Lamb,
The consummate gift of Omniscient God, the physical presence on worldly sod
Of a baby, a mystical Only Son,..a Saviour, the sacrificed Chosen One,
Whose life was to mirror our very own, so that all of our human-ness would be known
To the being who made us, and with great price
Would pay for our sins as the Risen Christ.
Imagine a manger
In darkest night, bare-lit by miraculous star so bright,
A cave where creatures, both large and small, surrounded a primitive hay-strewn stall,
Where Mary and Joseph in desperate need would bed where cattle did bide and feed;
Where Mary, a child and a mother-to-be, would birth her Son for the Deity,
Who chose her as blessed, a bud to bloom,
Producing God’s Son from a virgin womb.
Imagine shepherds
Beyond the glow of the village of Bethlehem’s ebb and flow,
Out on the hills with their flocks of sheep, they did in watchful safety keep.
Where angels announced in the evening chill a message all hearts might intensely thrill.
While over their flocks and themselves arose a hymn only God Himself still knows.
Then off to seek Him they blindly ran, this newest and dearest of all the lambs.
And, finally into that stable dim,
The stupefied shepherds came stumbling in.
Imagine them kneeling
With covered faces in this most sacred of holy places.
Something made clear to these humble men the miracle happ’ning in front of them.
Imagine God,
From His place on high, surveying it all with a loving sigh,
That the birth of His Son, the King of Kings,
Though announced with heavenly chorus of wings,
Was witnessed by simple, random strangers, bowing their heads around a manger,
Where stood a final “unroyal” feature… a rustic assortment of barnyard creatures.
Imagine the Lord’s
Intended goal… why to win the hearts of simple souls.
Those who were patient, gentle and calm, and just as innocent as a lamb;
Those who were neither too rich nor grand to turn away from the Master’s hand…
Those who were troubled and lost and lone, and ready to reach out a hand of their own:
Those whose intellect would not bar the urge to follow a brilliant star,
Or to be the few both wise and bold to see the Messiah so long foretold.
And what did the animals think of it all,
Languidly munching around the stall?
I don’t know,
Though maybe my thoughts are skewed, I don’t think that any were interviewed.
But, legend has it, that first Christmas Eve, if a really old story can be believed,
That the animals – all together and each, for a moment had the gift of speech…
Perhaps to discuss the reflected glory of being a part of the Christmas Story,
Or just to verbally impart
A thankful prayer from a humble heart.
Imagine you’re there
On a Christmas night, and your heart and your timing are planned just right;
They say, as the hands hit twelve o’clock, for a few special moments, the animals talk.
In deepest respect to the Great I Am, at least one, of course, must be a lamb.
So, If you would hear them on Christmas Eve,
You have to show up…. And you have to believe.
(Love to you from The Q.O.E.)