Baby: A Christmas Cry
(from Unwrapping His Presence: What We Really Need for Christmas)
i am an infant,
crawling around on the floor.
staring up
at the stairway,
i long to rise;
stand, walk, run, climb,
ascend to the top
and meet God.
but i am a baby,
incapable of such a feat.
God is there.
i am here.
the ten steps,*
stone stairs that offer access to God
are too formidable;
i am too weak, too immature.
God speaks from the majestic height:
He has heard my cries.
He sends a Rescuer
who descends the stairs,
a Giant shrinking in size
as He nears the bottom.
i am shocked, stunned.
when He arrives at the floor
He is an infant
crawling with me.
He has become like me.
but how will we climb the steps
and arrive at the place of our longing?
somehow this Babe lifts me up.
one step. then two. then another.
pushing and straining;
i see what is happening:
He is slowly dying,
exhausting His energy
by powering me to the top.
i arrive at God’s presence
full of sadness and joy;
i sing for me and hurt for the Rescuer.
i see God.
i see God.
i think i know Him.
i think He knows me.
He smiles.
i cry.
His smile looks similar to a Baby’s.
my cry is now the cry of a man.
* The Ten Commandments
