Merry Christmas
Christmas is a time of wonder, and hope. Christmas matters so much because it is the promise of Easter, of the Redemption and the resurrection, the answer to all the earth's pain and grief and failings.
The Christmas story is a story of faith, of simplicity; the faith to see in this child the salvation of God, the promises made through the prophets of the ages, that the Son of God would come and make a sacrifice for all of us. Where did he come? Not to a wealthy household, not to a prominent place, but to the simplest of homes, and honest livelihood, and the preparation of heart and spirit and integrity.
I was sitting in a stake choir practice one year, where we were preparing Christmas music, pondering while I waited for the soprano section to be called on. I had a moment's vision: I saw those baby hands reaching out, growing larger until they were stretched out and nailed to the cross for us all. Just the hands.
There was never a pause, never a hesitation in his life. He grew from birth to adulthood, steady and true, in readiness for the mission he had set for himself, in behalf of all men, from before the world began. From before the foundation of this world, as the scriptures state.
May we all remember and give thanks.
Newborn King
A humble shepherd's simple faith--
To hear the song of angels
And heed the call to come,
To recognize earth's greatest king
Within a stable cave.
Gazing at animals and poverty,
He sees eternal grace.
He kneels to watch the infant hands
In reflex spread and curl.
One day they'll bless the loaves and fish,
Touch sight back to the blind.
As tiny fingers clutch his own
His heart sees fingers, growing, grown--
Messiah's hands stretched forth to heal the world.
--Marian J. Stoddard (c)
The Christmas story is a story of faith, of simplicity; the faith to see in this child the salvation of God, the promises made through the prophets of the ages, that the Son of God would come and make a sacrifice for all of us. Where did he come? Not to a wealthy household, not to a prominent place, but to the simplest of homes, and honest livelihood, and the preparation of heart and spirit and integrity.
I was sitting in a stake choir practice one year, where we were preparing Christmas music, pondering while I waited for the soprano section to be called on. I had a moment's vision: I saw those baby hands reaching out, growing larger until they were stretched out and nailed to the cross for us all. Just the hands.
There was never a pause, never a hesitation in his life. He grew from birth to adulthood, steady and true, in readiness for the mission he had set for himself, in behalf of all men, from before the world began. From before the foundation of this world, as the scriptures state.
May we all remember and give thanks.
Newborn King
A humble shepherd's simple faith--
To hear the song of angels
And heed the call to come,
To recognize earth's greatest king
Within a stable cave.
Gazing at animals and poverty,
He sees eternal grace.
He kneels to watch the infant hands
In reflex spread and curl.
One day they'll bless the loaves and fish,
Touch sight back to the blind.
As tiny fingers clutch his own
His heart sees fingers, growing, grown--
Messiah's hands stretched forth to heal the world.
--Marian J. Stoddard (c)
We give thanks at this time of year, and all year long.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Marian.
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