Noel Big-Time small handful, intense joy copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo, ON, 2016
God's Preeminent Day Genesis 1: 5b And the evening and the morning were the first day. In such fashion creation began. But the perfect day is the Gospel of the life of our Saviour. It begins with night. A young couple, expectant with child, hurry into the busy town. No room in the Inn. This should be a joyous time but there are complications. The awkwardness of the
unprecedented pregnancy. The weariness of the journey by donkey to comply with the census edict. The virtuous and devout young mother made to feel invisible and an offscouring in a strange town. The strained young husband thinking about the awesome demands of fatherhood shortly to come upon him. The absence of any mid-wife to help in the ordeal fast approaching. The toss-of-the-coin decision to accept the foul-smelling manger with the docile beasts. And the Greatest Life comes. And the shepherds are awe-struck. And the starlit heavens resound with angel joy. It is perfected with morning. Another Mary. This one perhaps, not so virtuous in preceding years. Coming to what should be a place of great sadness-a tomb. And one which holds her dearest friend and teacher. Somehow she senses that there is unfinished business. Totally ignorant as to the means of accomplishing her final act of respect to the body of a terribly abused man, she waits and weeps. But there is a Visitor. His voice is wonderfully familiar. He calls her by name. The tomb is open and empty. It is the Master, Jesus, the bright and Morning Star. Risen indeed! The Gospel “Day� now shines with the focal promise of the ages.
Place of Agreement
Agreement
Is the target
That we hope for
All these years
But the place
Is full of bickering
One-upsmanship
And tears
And the plague infects
Our leaders
And reporters
And the schools
It suggests
Nothing is certain
Nothing stable
Ever rules.
But a STABLE
Holds the answer
Thrilling new life
In a child
And a focus
For agreement
In a champion
Meek and mild.
Welcome Jesus
We are with you
And the joy
We spread around
Nothing vague
About the message
And the victory
We’ve found.
Brilliance of Gladys
She kept the house
Though old she was
And widowed these six years
And Son moved West
And hips most shot
And much for loss and tears.
But frost had come
And robins fled
And Holidays in view
She paid the Lad
To mount the lights
And hopeful creche scene too.
The window tree
She decked with joy
And streamers green and red
And LP albums
Turning soon
Most nights before her bed.
A song from Andy, Bing or Rose
That never lost its pull
Or Boston Pops
With carols dear
Now that was wonderful!
The cookie sheets
Would bear a yield
For Church just down the street
And Merry Christmas
Graced her lips
For shopping friends she’d meet.
It’s just for kids
Her Sister said
As if to pull the plug
From all the joy
Of God come down
To grace a baby’s bed.
The kids must hear
And wonder too
At One the Wise Men blessed
I keep it up
So help me God
And point to Heaven’s best.
Sighing Night
They deck the halls
And wistful sigh
So much has gobbled
Up the days
The shopping list
The cards sent out
So slippery in
The traffic’s maze.
They hear the songs
Of warm good will
And feeble prayers
For peace on earth
But down inside
They bungle still
The festive fount
That gives life worth.
The manger and
The wise men’s trek
Mere images
Within the blend
And shepherds heed
The angel songs
Of Glory come
In love for men.
Too tired now
To see Noel
As marvelous
And filled with Hope.
The Day flits by
The sparkle leaves
Through one more
Christ-less year
They grope.
Lord move with power
And shake their eyes
And hearts still cold
To Mercy’s Plan.
With revelation
Lift their weights
Enlighten to
Your Son born man.
Peace
Peace on earth
We mouth the words
And scarce know what they mean
While daily
On the evening news
Some other bloody scene
Where cultures clash
Or land’s the prize
For which men slay their kin
And vain excess
Fills up the press
And advertises sin.
But will we let
A Baby’s hope
Erase this heavy load
To start again
At loving men
Within the plans of God?
Let Little Children*... He hugged the child So frail and mild With warm embrace And those around True kindness found In this One's face. The boy sat still As if to thrill In stories told Of God above Of shepherd love Found in the fold. But men had rules Punctilious fools All tied in knots Had lost the trust Both clean and just As youth once thought They tried this Man Of God-sent Plan With problems rare He showed the boy And loyal joy The Answer...there. “Friends simplify Don't say that I Present harsh test It's not a fight Just hold on tight And share my best.� (*Imagine the adult Jesus seating a happy child upon His lap and teaching the most important of all lessons on the holy life)
Mothers of Salem
When mothers of Salem Their children brought to Jesus,
The stern disciples drove them back And bade them depart.
But Jesus saw them Ere they fled, and sweetly smiled, And kindly said: “Suffer little children to come unto me.”
I chuckle whenever I hear this children’s hymn. Imagine it being offered up as a Christmas song in the midst of the standard commercial fare (Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, Jingle Bells). This is exactly what I did as a very young child attending one of my Dad’s service club Christmas parties. Children had been asked to contribute their favourite carol to the program. Some were off-key, some were shy and muted, some were mumbled and then forceful with a few remembered refrains. But young Doug? He was loud and off-topic. Or was I?
Strangely, the experience does remain in my memory. Probably because of the puzzled looks which appeared on the faces of adults as I did my best in honour of Jesus. My parents even looked a little put off for a couple of seconds. The song was in fact a children’s favourite at Sunday School (Jesus is a nice guy. His ways are good. He likes kids. He wants them near. He tells friends and mothers that it must be so.)
Is this not the message which presently struggles to the surface at Christmas? The rush is on; the shops are full; the tills are ringing; the restaurants host the company parties; the festive painted windows capture the imagination; the radios repeat the signature songs of Crosby, Williams, Carpenter and Matthis.
But who ‘repeats the sounding joy’ of God coming near, and especially to children? When you see it. Really see it. This humbling condescension of the Most High to the over-crowded City of David and the gentle beasts and rude smells of the manger. Nothing can be more captivating.