The Christmas Sun

The Christmas Sun

 

The sun rose this morning

illuminating the sky;

pink clouds announcing the beginning of a new day.

Smoke from last night’s fires

and vapor from the heat escaping the homes

send thin lines of grey up to the sky.

Last night the sky held stars

and the moon shone bright,

our slumber disturbed by sounds

of herald angels telling us

“Do not be afraid.”

A babe was born. 

 

Who is this child, so fragile

and so new?

What difference can he make

in a world filled with fear

of rulers incapable of compassion,

of tax collectors stealing what little we have left,

of those who slaughter innocent children?

 

We came through the night

to see this miracle,

born in a stable,

surrounded by animals and hay.

His mother and father

exhausted from their journey,

exhausted from their labor

create a makeshift home

with torches burning.

 

We are welcomed into this sacred space:

their home, for what it is worth.

A simple space,

a simple life.

Two parents, their lives

newly entwined,

welcoming their little king

with humility and fear--

unsure who was coming

to celebrate this new birth.

 

The sun rises this morning

illuminating the winding path

we traveled through the night.

The angels have grown silent.

Their message received.

Their urgency, their excitement,

their hope somehow understood

by those who heard.

 

We walked, our faces to the sky

listening to the song from heaven.

Following,

trusting,

wondering:

Why me?

Why was I chosen for this journey?

 

Who am I?

I am nothing.

I have nothing.

I bring nothing.

I go as I am, carrying only a water skin

and a bag of food.

Afraid.

Guided by the mystery,

I take each step, unsure,

unknowing where this path will lead.

 

The sun came up this morning.

The ground shimmering,

the sand glistening.

The baby cries and is quickly

cradled in his mother’s arms.

She looks around her

temporary home at all who have

come for shelter.

 

Disheveled, broken, hungry and dirty

I begin to move, to start a fire

to cook some food,

sharing all I have in my small bag.

It is insignificant.

It is meager.

It is all I have to give.

But when we put all we each have

together, there is enough,

at least for now,

as the sun rises,

and the mother feeds the baby.

 

This day begins like most others,

and yet the sun seems warmer,

the sky clearer,

the air fresher.

It is a new day

filled with a new hope,

a new joy,

a new light,

a new peace

brought into this world

through this tiny child.

 

And though I am not worthy--

I am poor,

I am broken

and this world is in chaos

with rulers who know little of compassion,

who know little about my tiny life,

who take but don’t give,

there is light.

 

There is light

in this new beginning

that brings hope,

that brings redemption,

that brings expectation.

And I am worthy

to sit in this stable

and share a meal

and wonder at the miracle of this birth.

 

This Christmas morning, creation springs new.  The world is fresh, our paths lightened by the One who came as a baby in a manger stall.  The One present since the beginning of time, reminding us that we are all creatures of the Creator, worthy to receive, open for transformation, hungry for a Savior.

Amen.