“…a son, a male child, who will rule all nations with an iron scepter.” -Revelation 12:5 He entered, not a barn, not a hay-filled nursery, but a galaxy, a kingdom groaning for his rule.
He arrived, not from a young woman, trembling and homeless, but a queen enthroned in stars.
We saw him, one fleshy hand raised in reflex, as if in his infancy, we might grasp deliverance.
He was found, not in David’s town, not in swaddling cloths, an unknown child wiggling in straw,
but as a hero in royal thread, a sorcerer, whose tap of scepter sends the dragon scurrying in fear.
He came, not to angelic song above hills of sheep, not to glittering starlight that drew kings,
but to a symphony in which treble clefs are undone, in which the blaze of fire melts the physical to gold.
He came, not to silence, not to bowing camels, not to carolers in moonlight, not to candles,
not to peace, not to our praises, our prayers, our holy. He came not to power, not to battle, not to shouts of glory.
He came in weakness, in furious rule, a God in infancy. He came. Receive the mystery.