God works hiddenly and quietly
Subversively toppling thrones and kingdoms
With nothing stronger than a Word
Whose sharp-edged syllables gnaw at false foundations
Until the walls come a-tumbling down
And everyone says, “Have you heard the news?”
We expect a God big and mighty
Our higher power above, our heavenly superhero
Able to leap our expectations in a single bound
Our great big Santa in the sky.
Give us daily bread and lots of cool stuff,
And thank you in advance for your cooperation.
But God appears barnyard born
An infant older than the stars
Who was when there was not a thing.
The Word through whom all things were made
And in whom all things hold together still.
The Virgin’s Son, Creator, King.
He chooses for His birthing place
Not Jerusalem or Rome
But Ephrath’s Bethlehem
A shepherd’s town, the runt of Judah,
Whose name means “house of bread.”
Living Bread! Maranatha!
As shepherds watched their flocks at night
And Bethlehem fell sound asleep
The little shoot from Jesse’s stem
Nestled at His mother’s breast
And sighed a deep, contented sigh.
God with us in Bethlehem!
©2001 WM Cwirla