Into this crook of time, heaven parted by God’s hand
a mighty throne vacated for this sin-soaked world
divine right deserted into a defenseless babe fragile, exposed, endangered
A totem of glory wrapped in delicate flesh
Tiny hands—that flung constellations into the sky,
channeled chaos waters into oceans and seas
forged granite into slopes and summits—
grasp empty air, clutching for comfort in this cruel world
A quivering mouth—that spoke light into being,
pierced the unknown with good,
commanded obedience with a word—
wails against the dark, incoherent, frail, brimming with need
A still-small breath—that opened lungs built of clay
saturated lifeless dirt
into a divine work animated—
tremors against the cold, gasping for existence with each exhale
Eyes—that conceived a cosmos crafted in love
calculated our galaxies' axes to incubate life
calibrated climates for creation to thrive—
blink blindly, begging for focus in a blurry world
Feet—that strolled the Garden paths with delight
set to bring gospel news to all mankind
a message of rescue, millennia in the making—
surrender to being bundled and born by another
He placed Himself in humanity's hand
swaddled into the muss and fuss of its messiness
a life unwritten as God's final Word
Our story His, so He could save ours
Photo by Greyson Joralemon on Unsplash
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