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