December brings with it the Christmas season. If you missed it, just turn on the tv or walk into any box store. Everyone wants to sell us their goods, and frankly there’s nothing wrong with that. We live in a capitalist economy after all.
When we run headlong into gifts and get-togethers, getting lost in the glittering lights, it can be easy forget what all this is supposed to be about, though. It’s easy to forget Jesus, the Christ, who was born a lowly birth into a broken world, grew into a perfect man, and offered up his life to horrendous torture and death that I and all who believe in him can have a redeemed relationship with a perfect God.
I need this reminder as much as anyone. I’ve shared this once before, but I was thinking about Jesus birth a while back and the following poem just kind of came to me. Enjoy, and feel free to let me know your thoughts.
A Hectic Silent Night
By Ryan J Doughan
A winter moon—a winter night,
A trodden path for tired feet,
A busy day, a busy night,
No room inside a crowded inn
A barn then, built for beasts--
a cave for cattle, little more.
They find some straw to mound a bed
and try to make her comfortable.
Now the chorus sings out louder,
And a poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
She’s hurting as the labor starts.
He’s terrified and sweating--
Never delivered a child before,
and here they’re all alone.
Still, a baby’s coming; this they know,
for an angel told them so.
Besides, she’s big, the water broke.
It’s time—a quick prayer, oh Father.
Now the chorus sings out louder,
And a poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
This silent night is hectic.
The world spins on outside.
A manger’s filled—the King is born,
but they all just pass him by.
There’re reunions and frivolity,
and a city filled to bursting.
Still only shepherds come to visit
the young couple and their Lord.
Now the chorus sings out louder,
And a poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
But my silent night is hectic,
Distraction filled to bursting.
Let me not forget the God-child,
Born that I might live.
From powerful to powerless--
A babe in swaddling clothes--
A man naked on a tree.
Emmanuel—God with us.
Still, the chorus sings out louder,
And this poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
Have a joy filled Christmas season everyone. May God bless you and draw you close to himself.
When we run headlong into gifts and get-togethers, getting lost in the glittering lights, it can be easy forget what all this is supposed to be about, though. It’s easy to forget Jesus, the Christ, who was born a lowly birth into a broken world, grew into a perfect man, and offered up his life to horrendous torture and death that I and all who believe in him can have a redeemed relationship with a perfect God.
I need this reminder as much as anyone. I’ve shared this once before, but I was thinking about Jesus birth a while back and the following poem just kind of came to me. Enjoy, and feel free to let me know your thoughts.
A Hectic Silent Night
By Ryan J Doughan
A winter moon—a winter night,
A trodden path for tired feet,
A busy day, a busy night,
No room inside a crowded inn
A barn then, built for beasts--
a cave for cattle, little more.
They find some straw to mound a bed
and try to make her comfortable.
Now the chorus sings out louder,
And a poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
She’s hurting as the labor starts.
He’s terrified and sweating--
Never delivered a child before,
and here they’re all alone.
Still, a baby’s coming; this they know,
for an angel told them so.
Besides, she’s big, the water broke.
It’s time—a quick prayer, oh Father.
Now the chorus sings out louder,
And a poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
This silent night is hectic.
The world spins on outside.
A manger’s filled—the King is born,
but they all just pass him by.
There’re reunions and frivolity,
and a city filled to bursting.
Still only shepherds come to visit
the young couple and their Lord.
Now the chorus sings out louder,
And a poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
But my silent night is hectic,
Distraction filled to bursting.
Let me not forget the God-child,
Born that I might live.
From powerful to powerless--
A babe in swaddling clothes--
A man naked on a tree.
Emmanuel—God with us.
Still, the chorus sings out louder,
And this poet weeps to know.
A baby born to die--
to die my death for me,
that I might live in him
and live eternally.
Have a joy filled Christmas season everyone. May God bless you and draw you close to himself.
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