Wednesday, December 22, 2010


I find the baby Jesus
Stuck to His plastic manger
On the floor by the toy bins,
Squashed down between the couch cushions,
Next to an empty purple sippy cup,
inside a shoe.
His face doesn't change --
Uncanny perfect peace on a newborn--
Though He is far from His stable
And His little plastic mother,
Found this time stranded on the third stair
Behind the gate.
I guess this is the Savior's reality
Since taking flesh to dwell among us--
Spending time in our deep, hidden places,
Lost amid our messes,
Forgotten in the middle of all our busy lives.
And His face shining grace always
Never changes toward us.

Once again I put Him back where He belongs.

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