The Shepherds – a narrative

And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him …
Zechariah cried,
“The crier has come”.
Not with a baby cry,
but the booming voice
of a herald,
a proclaimer,
… a final prophet
of the old covenant.
His John
would shout and convict,
baptise and point,
and guide to one to come
soon.
Zechariah’s child
was the path smoother,
the way maker
and light shiner.
He would
lose his head
but gain his life
as the promises
he proclaimed
came true.
But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times. Micah 5:2
Bethlehem,
small and undistinguished,
draws no attention to itself.
But God does.
Rachel’s tomb and
Ruth’s second marriage are
found here pointing
to a royal line.
David, his brothers
and his dad Jesse
called it home.
Little knowing
a greater home awaited.
Philistines
under Satan’s command
were fought
back at this hamlet.
Yet from you would come
the Messiah:
the hope of Israel
and the world
Here is another Christmas poem from an earlier year.
The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
Isaiah 9:2
I am the light of the world.
John 8:12
The Coming Light
Mole like
we call and crawl
though darkness.
Light, beauty, colour
unknown to our hearts
encased in blackened
cloud:
A cumulus* of sin
which blinds us
to life.
“A light is coming!
A light is coming!”
a small voice cries
across the years.
He really means,
“Life is coming!”
Mole like
we still stumble
until
the light
takes us,
gently holds us
and with the irony of
spit and dirt
opens our eyes.
* Latin for heaped
Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel. Isaiah 7:14
Just imagine,
the miracle of birth
without
a father.
The ridicule,
sniggers, gossip
and righteous anger.
But the holder
of the truth
knows
the reality,
the promise,
the eternity in her womb.
This truth
makes all
acid scorn
pale and fade
as the joy
is held.
‘I will make you into a great nation,
and I will bless you;
I will make your name great,
and you will be a blessing.
I will bless those who bless you,
and whoever curses you I will curse;
and all peoples on earth
will be blessed through you.’
Gen 12:2&3
Abram was blessed to be a blessing,
but he is not alone.
You and I too,
can be blessed
to be a blessing.
One from Abram’s family
would come to be
Christmas –
the incarnation –
the promised Messiah
revealed.
A primitive mural painting of Jesus, Mary and Joseph in the Keldby Church on the island of Mon, Denmark.
You and I
can live in that promise
revealed.
Then we too,
can herald his coming,
his return.
Then we too
have been blessed
to be a blessing.
I remember
long unencumbered summers,
endless warm winded days at the beach,
surfing, swimming, sun-baking and surfing again,
furtively playing cards to the small hours,
walking home and the street lights turning off at midnight.
I remember
scrambling along the river,
through mangroves and reeds,
finding signs of past boats fading in the mud,
sailing my own sabot – not too successfully!
I remember
treks into the bush,
sneaking out early with a friend,
parents unaware,
exploring in the early dawn
and yabbying with string and morsels of meat.
I remember
cycling far afield
to other towns and places,
with lunch and possibilities
firmly tied on.
I remember
when worries were small
and life was big,
when dreams were limitless
and “no” un-thought of.
I remember
being young
but as they say,
‘that was another country’
and yet
… it still whispers to me.
A Skyped voice,
An Apple Message,
An Instagram photo
or even
a good old email,
is no replacement
for eyes meeting,
a tender touch
and a warm hug.