In Celebration

In Celebration
In celebration of the Savior's birth:
The wonder that He came to earth,
Took on an infant's form and age--
For God a baby's form his cage,
Limiting His choice for we
Sinners by choice without liberty
All He is as God Enfleshed instead,
Taking on hummanness and shed
As as God is His due
That He might come for me and you,
Grow in knowledge and in grace,
Take at last the sinner's place,
Willing die bearing His Father's wrath divine
That we may be grafted into the vine,
Taking all that we deserved to bear of grief
Gifting us redemption, grace, belief;
What a wonder began that day
As that Child was laid in humble hay,
Born to grow and die and more--
Raised triumphant to reign forevermore.

Christ Jesus in His First Coming

Christ Jesus in His First Coming
Neither form nor comeliness (KJV, Isaiah)
Not in His first coming.
The Incarnate cloaked in commonness,
Startling in His equally human naturedness,
Humbling Himself in this as well.
And then, naked on the cross,
Apart from the crown of mocking thorns
And bleeding lash marks,
He bore the scars of my sin on His skin
With no bitterness within
As He exchanged His holiness for my sin
Before the Father's eternal approval of grace
Christ took my place,
And in some God-ordained agreement,
Gave me His as one without sin,
Agreeable then to be in the Presence.
What response can I have to this miraculousness?
From eternity to eternity, worshipful obedience,
Anticipating His Second Coming
Revealing His glory in its aweful fullness.
Even so, come!

Working, Waiting, Watching

Working, Waiting, Watching
Working and waiting, waiting and watching,
Time is a package to be opened with care,
To not be used up too quickly or let in thin air.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching,
Time goes so quickly with each passing breath,
One less beat of the heart, one less beat.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching;
How were those days Mary and Joseph labored
To travel from here to there over difficult terrain.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching;
Joseph may have watched Mary more than the trail,
May have wished to take the labor's pain.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching;
Mary, on foot or donkey, watched and waited,
Joseph, no doubt on foot, worked and watched, watched and waited.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching;
Over the terrain in some amount of pain walking,
Stumbling perhaps but moving.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching;
Would they get to Bethlehem before the birth?
Would there be room, even on packed earth?
Working and waiting, waiting and watching,
The angels keep the shepherds in sight,
Poised to messenger on the coming night.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching,
The shepherds were so diligent to work, to wait, to watch,
Little imagining they'd see the Lamb of Israel.
Working and waiting, waiting and watching,
Between that First Advent and the Second,
We wait while we work and we too watch.

That Birth

That Birth
Counting down now
Who knew that Birth
Was more than one
To be counted for
Caesar's census
Was more than one
To be fed
Who knew then that Birth
Would make a second birth possible
Would feed both temporal and eternal hungers
When knew then that Birth
Meant more than one more
Son of Abraham
Meant that this was the one begotten
Son of God

It was the week before Christmas

It was the week before Christmas
(I wrote this during graduate school back in the 1980s)
It doesn't seem like Christmas is just a week away,
Not today.
All days seem somewhat similar or -dis,
And so they are, for a "grown-up," that is.
They go on and on in a stream unbreakable
With expectations and demands unshakable.
Life wasn't always so regimented
As to drive one to be nearly demented.
There was a childhood in everyone's past,
And for most it couldn't last.
Oh, not the immaturity, that's not what I mean,
But the sense of seeing which was much more keen.
The sense of seeing and of surprise
Gets lost in the transfer to "adult" eyes
And wonder is with worry and rush replaced
As we learn that no haste is waste.
So Christmas becomes another season
Filled less with wonder than with reason,
And we hurry and we count
As commitments mount,
And we rush and we fret
About what isn't done yet,
And we lose our breath and our peace
For this is grownupness--no time for release!
We push and we panic and we hope we won't be late;
We've got to deah and dash, and push away the hate
Of the guy who cut in front of us in any given line
And of the children weary who scream and whine
And we put on the right face
As we push the frenetic pace
Which never comes to a sane halt of quiet;
Don't try to deny it;
That's how it gets to be
As we all verge on seasonal insanity.
It isn't just grading or papers to write
That makes us lose sleep in these winter's night
After night but the pace that we buy
And the stories we self-tell, those are why
Christmas cannot come in just seven days--
We've run far too low on our stock of praise
In our haste and in our worry
Mostly what we've got is hurry
And praise takes time--a precious commodity
Whether in country or city community--
And we've used it and gotten overdrawn
And now we are feeling quite put upon....
We cannot buy praise or thanks;
They don't draw interest in banks.
They come from a heart
At peace, quiet, in part
From not competing,
Not head beating
Against the nearest wall
For our not being better than everyone or all.
Grace is what it takes to praise
And praise makes grace abound on days
When both seem in shortest supply
And for both, each, all, God is why.
He is reason enough for each rejoicement,
The Word who defines what the voice meant,
And goes beyond, and sweetly surrounds, protects,
Within whose confines we can connect
And find tranquility and content,
Finally whole, our hearts no longer rent.
For He is our peace and in His image we
Can find joy and harmony.
Then Christmas and Easter and all other days
Will find for us the norm is praise.
Circumstances be what they may,
Let joy resound both night and day.

EXODUS

EXODUS
I've been through this book before
But not like this.
This time I see
Your holiness more clearly
Your glory more distinctly
Your awesome Person,
And I have to bow
And I have to repent
And I have to worship
And I have to catch my breath
To again bow
To again repent
To again worship
The Only Worthy One,
Glorious in holiness,
Merciful in redemption,
Lord and Lamb,
I AM.