The sky grew black
as the eastern hemisphere rotated into the darkness.
Away from the light of the sun the night became cold.
The hearts had grown cold long ago.
Plunged into darkness by a wayward choice.
A stretch for power beyond ourselves.
A taste had sentenced the generations to darkness of heart and
coldness of spirit that even the warm morning sun
could not drive away.
Except that night there was a rather brilliant star
intruding on the inky blackness.
The dazzling twinkle taunted its pale brothers in the sky.
And it drew the eye. Captured the gaze.
And for centuries before there had been twinkles of light
that seemed to point the way.
Signs of hope given in the midst of despair.
The light of miracles and divine intervention.
Dotting history, they had grabbed the heart and drawn the gaze.
Illuminating the path and giving hope of what was to come.
Of WHO was to come.
In the chill of that night a muffled scream tore the silence.
Searing pain and groaning agony
never experienced by this innocent before.
It rang out with a prophetic echo.
Foretelling the future groans, the ripping torment, the soul searing destruction of His innocent flesh.
To be laid down in sacrifice.
His life blood hemorrhaging away that a world in darkness might
be born new.
As the minutes crept by and the intensity became suffocating,
the darkness looked on and tightened its grip
on the world it had held since the fall.
After hundreds of minutes…
after hundreds of years…
the moment was here.
The push. A breath and a cry.
A tiny little innocent cry that flashed like a bolt of lightening ripping time in half.
The darkness reverberated and a pulse of light cut through
dimensions we cannot perceive.
All of heaven rejoiced with a thunderous sound.
And hell trembled with confusion.
It had never been done before.
And who would have ever imagined a love so great?
What God leaves his throne to become a man?
To enter the darkness in order to defeat it.
For others. For us. For you. For me.
It was unthinkable.
This plan set in motion by that very first cry.
That downy wet head cradled in swaddling clothes and
laid in a humble bed of straw.
He had crowned and come in human blood
so He could be crowned.
With thorns and His own blood dripping.
So He could be crowned with glory
and take home His bride.
To whisk her away from the darkness she was once captive to,
the darkness she had once chosen.
To make her clean and new and beautiful and
take her home to His forever kingdom.
Such a love story had never been written.
And all creation held its breath as He took his first.
And then everything changed.
God was sticky and cold
and there was no warm bath for Him or snugly soft blankets.
No incubator or decorated nursery or baby shower.
Just a filthy barn, the loving arms of two young parents, some smelly shepherds, and a suspicious and
scornful family to welcome him.
And we are no longer alone in our filth and our pain.
The coldness of our hearts and the futility of our situations.
He is with us. Hope is here. Peace has arrived.
He has come for us. To hold us. To walk with us.
And if we will let him, to rescue us with His love.
And perhaps now the King is holding His breath, to see if you will take your first.
The first of a new life.
His royal nail scarred hand reaching out for yours.
No offer could be greater. No proposal more breathtaking.
And in our hearts we will whisper “Yes!”
And with our mouths let’s shout “Yes!”
This Christmas Day.
And every day after.
Let us rejoice!
The King has come for us!
Featured Image by Phil Hearing