Every year I write some sort of spoken word/ poetry for Christmas. Here's what I wrote for this previous Christmas:
"He is."
Promised…
To be the founder of a nation,
To set a people free,
To receive a land to call home
To be given a king,
To see Jew and Gentile
Finally reconcile,
To have eyes opened
To see the sick healed
The poor made rich
And the hungry made full…
They wait.
Holding only to signs
Of colors in the sky
Of a fiery bush
Of a star in the East
Of a catch of fish
Of a sheet of pigs
Of the words
of a revolutionist
on a hill
about a kingdom
drawing near.
I wonder.
Can I dare to dream
Of this heaven on earth
Where friends re-unite
And Dads love their kids
Where work is something all can attain
But is never one’s bane.
Where purpose and joy
And freedom and life
Are the most prevalent words
of our time.
To hope
is a brave feat -
To willingly put yourself
In a tug – of –war
Between absolute joy
And brutal reality –
To dream of what could be
And wake up to what is
Day after day
After day.
But to know
That that yearning for more
Was actually knit into our very being
From day one
As we looked both back and ahead to
Paradise –
And that hope is not just some
wishful thinking for a
fairy tale world,
but that we are people
who have been promised.
THAT gives us courage to dream.
We have been promised…
A world
Where the sick are healed
The poor are rich
The hungry are full…
And as we join those before us
to wait…
we hold on to the greatest sign of all –
Our savior is here.
He is our hope.
He is our promise.
Jesus – let your kingdom come.
Amen.
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