The coming of Christ is no sentimental visit;
it is an incursion into our empire of cruelty,
an insurrection against our apathy and injustice.
But it comes in tiny moves, small and fragile.
By grace made flesh, tender and willing,
the tear is mended one stitch at a time.
A germ of goodness, a mere germ,
moving through the people,
transforming the body.
A healing presence, quantum forgiveness,
never more privileged or powerful
than a newborn infant.
An ancient song rises, a simple melody
carried by a singe voice, a gathering chorus
the noise of the Empire can’t drown out.
A crack in the dam. A seed in the soil.
A gentle people, powerless and confident,
knowing the Emperor fears the child.
In the harsh winter a turning,
on a moonless night a welcoming manger,
at the foot of the empire a dangerous babe.
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Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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