Peering eyes barely opened, recognized his mother from a bed of straw. He squirmed, tentatively exploring his world, not knowing it would so soon reject him or that for it, he would lay down his life. Yet to discover what in eternity he knew, that he was the Savior-Sovereign, he whimpered as any infant would and cried out for suckle. So vulnerable was the Son of God, so frail the Son of Man and we did esteem him stricken, smitten, afflicted by God.

Crucified from the foundations of the earth, he emptied himself of glory. Yet, glory pursued him. He took on the form of a servant as angels stood by awaiting his slightest summons. He subjected himself to temptation, but shunned sin. He walked among men as a man, but his divinity could not be hidden. He prayed as we must pray and taught us in so doing to embrace the kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. There he lay, a bundle of need who had hitherto known no need. Packaged in his person, the potent possibilities of reconciliation and redemption.

Here lay an offering, wiggling beneath swaddling clothes, wrapped up and carefully placed under every family's tree.

Here lay the concentrated reality of all God's love for humankind.

Here was a promise fulfilled, a hope realized, a purpose unfolding before our very eyes – and we esteemed him not.

How we have marginalized this child. How we have assigned him but a season of sentimental reflection and generalized good wishes. How we have misunderstood, misrepresented, or misappropriated the meaning of his coming. God manifest, he was and is and nothing less. Emmanuel – more than a pleasant sounding melody - is the miracle of incarnation. God is, absolutely, irrevocably, undeniably, and unambiguously, with us.

A child – weak and hungry – he was born into a world without incubators or Pampers or formula. He was born into a world of high infant mortality with an elevated threat on the Herodian horizon. For each who welcomed him, there were companies of soldiers seeking to snuff out his life. Soon to be on the run, a fugitive from his own people, he would return again and again and ultimately in a final show of death-defying atonement.

He is the Lord we laud, the Master we magnify, and the Savior we salute on this night of nights. We have no gold, frankincense nor myrrh to bring as acts of homage. We bring empty hands extended toward him that he might fill them with his own gifts. We fall down before him and worship with broken and joyful hearts, celebrating the power of the pregnant paradox – they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

Gaze upon him in wonder this night. Sing to him a lullaby of praise.

O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore him, O come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord.

—————————-

Wrapped in vulnerability,
Love descended …
exposed to the elements …
exposed to threat 
and danger …
exposed,
vulnerable,
human …
Love:
Incarnate …
invisible divinity and
visible humanity.
Love …
an open target …
a viable opportunity
to align or malign and yet
Alive!
Very Alive!
Present with us,
Among us,
One of us,
Like us …
in all our infirmity …
every temptation,
every disease,
every emotion,
every pain and passion,
poured upon Love!
Welcome, Jesus!
Welcome, Spirit!
Welcome, Presence and Power of God,
Emptied and embodied in
a body.
We are your body now.
All that you were among us,
We are called to be.
Let us be who you were and let us
give as you gave and let us
speak as you spoke and let us
love as you loved.
You, who are the Prince of Peace have made us …
Peacemakers and called us …
Blessed.
And we are …
Blessed.
Welcome, Lord Jesus.
Welcome to our hearts and lives and 
World.
Joy to the World!
The Lord has come.
Let earth receive her King! 

———————————–

The Gift Cluttered Parlor

by Tom Sims

 The world is dark

As a gift cluttered parlor

on Christmas morning

Before the children awaken

from their restless sleep.

Grace steps in softly on tip-toe.

We know its heart and soul

A goal, a light, an arrow in the sky

Why the urge to flee, resist

Insist on proof, bold, aloof and cold?

The old, the young, unsung and poor

A door to truth, a way to find.

Kind words are not enough

The stuff of delusion,

Confusion, and appearance,

A clearance sale, a give-away

Grey to bright, sight to insight

Flight above the clouds and stars,

Jars of life, boxes of love, packages of joy.

The piracy of our privacy

Invades the darkness and

redirects our thoughts

To a manger gift

And lifts our lives

beyond ourselves

To God.