No Rhyme or Reason

Once upon a time-less this

Much the same: much amiss

Was a crying baby boy

Prince of Peace, bundle of joy!

All in All, he came as One

There in straw lay heaven’s Son

First-born Word and living Bread

Dark brown curls upon his head

Not with trumpets jubilee,

Focal point of history

Only shepherds and some sages

Came to see the Rock of Ages

Two poor parents, penniless

Saw him there and bore witness

Boy became a servant man

Savior too (redemption plan!)

Vagabond and Timeless King

Leper toucher, white dove’s wing

Taught the teachers, stood his ground

Sin was sought, but none was found

Men and women, whitewashed tombs

Baleful minds, corrupted wombs

Killed him!

The End.

So it seemed . . .

But that is how our God redeemed:

By a death, a sacrifice

To a T,  he paid the price

Bloody purchase, Mercy bought

Freedom from a murder plot

To buy away the pain of death

With his last, our second breath

The Father knew it must be he:

R e s u r r e c t i o n   Symphony!

Now each son (and every daughter)

Sees the Light and drinks the Water

Spirit Wind, and River Love

From one small child, born of above

Ever more God’s Sacred Son

He saved us once. Now, it is done!

That is kinda like the Reason

Or a Symptom of the Season

Celebrate? Oh sure we love it!

God’s own will won’t rise above it

But, his will is also down

Infinite. Eternal Crown.

Majesty! Glory! Grace!

Come to earth to see your face

And Hoobastank, they sang a part

An earthly tune of body/heart

But Music is a song of soul

(add body/heart, your mind is whole)

It’s a story, not of death,

But evergreen in winter’s breath

[An image, a good one: a frost-covered rose

Behind it, a green tree. There’s more, I suppose]

An epic tale, it’s never-ending

In it together, space-time bending

Christmas tells the story too

The Reason is . . . (no pause): It’s You.

But that’s not quite it either, see

That God was born for you and me

It’s for the hooker, brutish pimp

Spitters of spite and children who limp

For Leon the Liar and tweakers on buses

One lonely woman, a preacher who cusses

For hardworking humans, cheaters who slack

Rock stars who have it, and losers who lack

But why even do it, make it at all,

Create a pure garden, and then watch it fall?

Why was the cosmos altered so?

Why choose a dragon (with fire) as a foe?

Why spotless lamb death, from one peasant birth?

Why place that garden right here on earth?

Love is the answer. He tells us that much.

And we must love likewise. Constantly such,

that it flows through this Season and then into spring

And into forever and ever-y thing

God has his reason and reasons and seasons

and his own meter and rhyme scheme too, apparently,

because I can’t even keep up with him,

and he keeps throwing down the lines

and giving us gifts under all trees, right?

Too much!

I pray you, take a dose of cheer:

Emmanuel. He’s with us!

God, take it from here . . .