Nativity

by Vernie Lynn DeMille

 

Is this what it means to be humble?

To carry swaddling cloth,

Coarse but clean, 

Always ready to catch

Lambs without blemish,

Fresh from the blood of birthing, 

And carry them, 

Clean and perfect, 

To the blood of sacrifice.

Is this humility?

To know the earth by feel in the dark;

The stones and scent of grass and shrub.

To see it illuminated

By the angels of God,

Brilliant and beautiful, 

Full of awe and good tidings

In a field where the laborers watch stars and shadows 

Beside the temple sheep.

Is this the absence of pride?

To hurry, following the herald’s directions,

Seeking out the lamb of God, 

Perfect in his innocence and poverty,

Freshly wrapped in swaddling.

Born for sacrifice.

Seeking only His glory, weeping at his meekness, 

And proclaiming His worth, 

Not their own,

Nor boasting of the part they played in prophecy 

And divine visitation.

—

Is this the meaning of Wisdom?

To spend decades looking for God

In the words of other wise men

Carved in stone and scratched on skins, 

And to find his sign, at last,

Amidst the galaxies.

To know books,

Meanings within meanings, 

And truth hidden in the counting of syllables; 

Only to leave off study 

And spend years searching the landscape by starlight.

To travel weeks and leagues 

In search of God on earth

And be disappointed in His choice of nursery.

To come face to face with dashed expectations, 

And see the only begotten of Heaven

In the eyes of a poor woman’s child.

To see the Alpha and Omega In a rough bed of wood slats and straw

Despite the carpenter’s skill for fine creations,

Instead of seated on an honored throne. 

Is this what it means to be wise?

To offer precious things for all of His possibilities,

And recognition of the weight He will one day carry, 

Instead of denying Him help 

Due to the gossip,  rumor,  and prejudice

For his mother’s past and

Uncertainty of his father’s lineage. 

Is this the product of seeking?

The ability to find what is,

Regardless of how it seems, 

And to know the truth of the Word made flesh, 

For they already knew Him by heart.  

—

Is this what it means to provide and protect?

To stand beside the choicest of all women,

To forgive the illusion of betrayal by his espoused 

When God bade him love and trust

She who his friends and family told him to reject. 

To have an open heart to match his ready mind, 

And learn to see virtue and holiness, 

In what the world would label sin. 

Is this fatherhood?

To obey an emperor, or to flee a king,

In the dead of night when God warned him to run,

And to trust a land of strangers with the welfare of his family.  

To lay aside political allegiance 

In order to raise the stature and education

Of God’s son who called him “father.”

To love the child who shared only his home and his heart,

But not his blood, 

And cradle him in hands that set aside their own plans and dreams,

For the work of nurturing.  

Is this the providence of Heaven?

A good man

With willing hands.

Who showed the child by daily example,

How to set aside his own pride

And do the work of the Father of them both. 

—

Is this what it means to be a messenger?

To adjust your salutations of glory 

And go where God bids you

In the quiet of the night.

Not to the vain or pompous,

Nor to the kings and leaders of nations, 

But to the presence of the humble and the willing

In their fields of stone. 

And tell with simple words

The good news of redemption for every soul.

Is this the errand of angels?

To speak the wisdom of ages

To only the handful who will believe.

While you desire in your heart to trumpet loud and long

From the tops of mountains, temple spires, and fortress walls, 

That deliverance is come into the world.  

To find yourself mourning, 

Knowing your message is peace,

But you will see it turned into hate and war. 

To speak words full of love, 

And know they are rejected before they are felt. 

And to rejoice,

That no rejection of truth

Can change the truth of the message,

Or that though there be but one listener, 

God would still have sent His hosts

To call them home.

 —

Is this what it means to be willing?

To welcome in the exhausted and dusty travelers

To a house already full of the cares of the world,

And people in need of respite, safety,  and the peace of home

While they are far from their own. 

To feel inadequate in the face of desperate need, 

But still offering all the service they could,

After emptying themselves

Of every bit of strength they already believed they had. 

Searching the recesses of cupboards

To provide food

For the weary travelers.

And watching desperate, 

Pain-filled eyes seek a sanctuary,

Or comfort, 

Or at very least some privacy,

To complete the travail 

Of birth.  

Is this the truth of hospitality?

To learn by living

That another’s need draws more

Compassion from the depth of our hearts

Than we previously believed we had.

And teaches us the beauty of shared sorrow,

Even in rough accommodations,

Insufficient for the needs and the worth

Of those we offer our meager efforts to.

Discovering that the willingness to make room

For love,  kindness,  and empathy 

Is all that’s needed for the

Salvation of humanity

To come into the world.  

—

Is this what it means to be holy?

To know a messenger from God

When he arrives with a difficult message. 

To be unafraid to question the how of performance, 

While understanding the why of obedience. 

To know condemnation for submission 

Before the comfort of loyalty;

The pain of gestation before the pleasure of consummation;

And the weight of divine trust

With no promise of earthly reprieve from pain.

To choose God

Before herself.

And to know that what grew within her, 

Who lay in her arms

Fresh from blood and birth,

Would submit

In the way of His mother’s faithfulness,

To blood and death

For the sake of humanity’s rebirth.  

Is this God’s definition

Of choice?

The willing heart, 

The soul that endures,

The mind that keeps and ponders truth, 

Seeks counsel with willing ears,

And walks miles, 

Crosses deserts,

And treasures a child

From before conception 

To after crucifixion,

Never failing in faith,  hope,  and love.  

—

Is this the fullness of grace?

An infant, weak and subject to the weakness of humanity,

Holding acceptance,  forgiveness,  and love in his tiny heart?

So tiny that it could be discounted or discarded, 

And yet,

Upon his throne, 

The king of a worldly kingdom

Trembled in fear at its beating. 

And upon their knees,

King and servant alike 

Trembled in wonder

That it beat for them.

  

Is this, then, the fullness of glory?

This simplicity that cries, 

Craves touch and tending, 

Desires comfort and belonging

In a world that seeks destruction. 

Is this what it means 

For the promise of the Word

To become a covenant kept?

A God become flesh,

Acquainted with our heartbreaks,

Our heaviest disappointments, 

And ingloriousness of our most bitter betrayals. 

God with us, beside us, 

Descended below us;

Cradled amongst cattle,

Caught speaking with harlots, beggars, slaves, and the diseased.  

A God on His knees,

Catching a world in freefall,

And rising with an invitation

To come and partake of such grandeur as this humanity.

—

Is this call,

To come unto Him,

The invitation to our own

Nativity?

An opportunity for rebirth and

Becoming

A new people, 

Keeping a new covenant 

And ushering in

A new world.

Built upon the humility, 

Wisdom, providence, willingness, holiness, and

Grace of a God

Who meets us where we are,

And greets our efforts with His abundance.

Because he knows what grows

From broken beginnings, 

Shattered dreams,

Cruel judgments,

And unlikely odds.

He knows how small and simple

Are the homes wherein the

Glory of God resides. 

And it matters not where we lay our head, 

Or what our lineage and title be;

Homeless, refugee, or beloved royalty alike,

We become more than we have ever been, 

In the circle of the light 

Cast by that one brilliant life.  

—

December 25, 2021