I don’t know why the shop displays act like it was a funeral.

I mean, have they even seen a baby being born?

Ever heard of peaceful labor?

I haven’t seen a freeze frame of a straining momma described as calm serenity.

It was dirt stained near calamity,

When this God broke into all humanity.

So let’s let the story be the story.

Let the scene not be serene.

This baby arrived perfect,

But it wasn’t neat and clean.

Let the scene be what it was.

Ridiculous.

Miraculous.

And downright spectacular…ous.

This God, this savior of humanity,

He came and passed up the varsity,

The JV, dodging even the freshman team.

The God who should have chose a king or a queen,

Risked it all on two broke teens.

With no money, no plan or so it seems.

But this was the kind of love He was after.

A path no one would have chosen,

Wandering under a starry night,

A virgin mother half frozen.

It had to be done.

There was a fight to be won.

Still this just didn’t seem the way to introduce Gods own son.

This long-awaited moment.

Those tiny holy lungs.

Experiencing our pains,

Was this helpless baby born to be slain?

Joseph smiling ear to ear,

Recalling the words the angels had spoken.

God had come near!

For His heart for us…had broken.

Because this baby,

Between the cries and Satan’s lies,

Had a greater speech he was tweaking.

So later when the crowds came seeking,

This baby now a man,

Would take words crafted by God’s own hand,

And tear down the walls,

Of tapestry strung religious halls,

With a speech that started in Holy submission,

and ended up in calling out the opposition,

Because this baby was born for that cross position.

This baby, there he lay.

What a glorious,

Holy

Boisterous

day.

-Merry Christmas.-

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