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400 years waiting for the light
In silence, blindness, no hope in sight
But faith doesn’t look to what is seen
While patiently and prayerfully awaiting the King

But we all, like sheep, have gone astray
We have turned, every one, to our own way
We have loved the glory that comes from man
More than the glory that comes from His hand

This reality should rattle us, until like leaves we fall
Yet after the fall is the rising, the Good News for all
For the Shepherd leaves the flock to seek the lost
Regardless of logic, regardless of cost

But before the rising, before the spring,
After autumn comes the birth of our King
An infant in his mother’s arms, a picture of fragility
Emmanuel, our Savior, embodiment of humility


I’ve struggled with sharing this poem.  (Correction: I struggle with sharing all of my poems).  This could easily be just the beginning of a long poem I would love to write  about the meaning of Christmas.  It sounds that way to me – like it’s just an intro.  But the words above came to me, and then when I got to Emmanuel, I was at a loss for words.  I simply don’t have them.  And isn’t that just like us?  To feel like we always need to add something more, like what comes naturally just doesn’t cut it?  I’m learning that my words will never be adequate, but Jesus is.  He is all-sufficient without any perfectly articulated lines from me.   My poem is an intro, and so am I.   I can introduce our Savior with my words and point to Him with my life, but I can’t save souls.  May we be content to marvel at His majesty this season, and may we experience the joy and exultation of what Christmas means for us in a real and personal way all year long.


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