Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Christmas Poems

Several of you have asked for my Christmas poems-- here are several of the ones most requested.


A cold and listless season,

And full of cheerless cheer,

When hopes are raised and dashed again

And joy dissolves in tears.

The search for endless family

The search for one true Friend

Leaves questers tired, disconsolate

With questions without end.

Best find some potent pleasure quick

Some superficial thrill

Than search for everlasting love

When none can fill that bill.

So hide yourselves in shopping

And eating ‘til you burst,

Use endless entertainment

As shelter from the worst.

And hope at least for truce on earth,

Though warlords rattle swords

As if to kill could solve our ills

We seize our ‘just’ rewards.

Mistake some rest for lasting peace

And calm for ‘all is well’

And absence of activity

As year end’s victory bell.

But what if Advent is no quest

Despite the wise men’s star

What if Advent isn’t reached

By driving from afar?

What if Good News comes to us

From well beyond our reach?

What if love and peace on earth

Are more than things we preach?

What if a restless peace

Is what He did intend

Until we open up our lives

And let the stranger in?

What if a peaceless rest

Is not the Christmas hope

What if nothing we could do

Helps us truly cope?

What if there is a bonding

With one who rules above

Who came to us in beggar’s rags

And brought the gift of love?

The God shaped hole in every heart

Is healed by just one source

When Jesus comes to claim his own

Who are without recourse.

So give up endless seeking

Surrender is required

The one who is the Lord of all

Cannot be bought or hired,

He’s not conjured into life

By pomp and circumstance

By Yuletide carols boldly sung

By fun or drunken trance.

He comes unbidden, unawares

Fills crevices of souls

He comes on his own timely terms

And makes the sinner whole.

‘We shall be restless’ said the saint

‘Until we rest in thee’

And find that we have been reborn,

Our own nativity.

How silently, how silently

The precious truth is given

And God imparts to human hearts

The blessings of his heaven.



Creatures of habit,

Day after day

Go about life,

The same old way.

Nothing disturbs

Their orderly routine

All must be neat,

And all must be clean.

They’re making their lists

And checking them twice,

Trying to make sure

Their work will suffice.

Impatient by nature

They don’t suffer fools

Gladly or otherwise

Because of the rules.

A place for everything

For all there’s a place

Don’t touch the guest towels

But please wash your face.

They insist on living

Orderly lives,

And of course only marry

Orderly wives.

Their homes antiseptic

Their cars always clean,

Their food always healthy

Their meat always lean.

Like ants in an ant hill,

Repeating their tasks

Rest in repetition

Ignore the mask.

Chaos is forbidden

Experiment absurd

Don’t ask for creative

Don’t mention the word.

Creatures of habit,

By whose design?

Is this just human,

Or is it divine?

What if we found

That ordering our sphere,

Is just a misnomer

For controlling our fear?

Fear of the truth,

Fear of falling

Fear of the unknown,

Fear of our calling

Fearing to let go,

Fearing to try,

Fearing to live,

And fearing to die.

Perhaps if we surrender

Control of our lives,

And offer ourselves

To all seeing eyes

We’d find a new freedom

Though not out of bounds

For when he controls us

The order’s profound.

Let go of the death grip,

You have on your life

Inhibit your habits

Without artifice.

Accept serendipity,

Free by design

Eat the new manna

Drink the new wine.

Come to the manger

Kneel at the throne

Realize your ruler

Won’t leave you alone.

Celebrate Christmas

Deliverance declare

You’re freed to inhabit

A creature’s full share.

Dec. 1 2005


Holidays are hollow

Unless they’re hallowed well,

For holidays are holy days

The time for truth to tell.

There’s time to spare

Time to waste

Time to make amends

Time to do most anything

Even make new friends

Holidays, a good time

For writing poetry

A silent, subtle indolence

Inspires creativity


He came in incognito,

A thinly veiled disguise

The not so subtle son of man,

A human with God’s eyes.

The messianic secret,

Left many unawares

A God had walked upon the earth

And shared our human cares.

We did not see his glory,

At least not at first glimpse,

It took an Easter wake up call,

Before it all made sense.

The truth of Incarnation,

Of dwelling within flesh,

Shows goodness in creation,

And Word of God made fresh.

Standing on the boundary

Twixt earth and heaven above

A Jew who hailed from Nazareth

But came from God’s great love.

Born of humble parents,

Installed inside a stall

This king required no entourage

No pomp or falderal

No person was beneath him

No angel o’er his head,

He came to serve the human race

To raise it from the dead.

His death a great conundrum,

How can the Deathless die?

But if he had not bowed his head,

Life would have passed us by.

Though we are dying to be loved,

And long for endless life,

He was dying in his love,

And thereby ending strife.

Perhaps the incognito

Belongs instead to us,

Who play at being human,

And fail to be gold dust.

But there was once a God-man

Who played the human’s part

And lived and died and rose again

Made sin and death depart.

Yes now through a glass dimly,

We see the visage royal

And feebly honor his great worth

And his atoning toil.

We cannot see his Spirit,

But moved by its effects

We are inspired to praise his worth

And pay our last respects.

Yet that too brings him glory

That too makes a start,

The journey of a million miles

Begins within one’s heart.

And someday we shall see him

And fully praise his grace,

Someday when heaven and earth collide

And we see face to face.

He comes in blinding brilliance,

A not so veiled disguise

The not so subtle Son of God,

A God with human eyes.

Love and Blessings to All you out there is Bloggerville during this holy season.

1 comment:

Shawna Atteberry said...

This seemed to be the most appropriate place for my off-topic comment. I just read your article, "No Room in the What," at CT.com. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This is what I have been telling people for years. Rural people (I grew up in Oklahoma in a town of 3,000) understand. They had people staying in their barns during the Great Depression. It is so nice to see this on CT.com, and now I can say "Hey a biblical scholar says the same thing," and give them the link.