THE WHISPER OF DIVINITY
A chaotic place: under the ardent lamps,
the buzz of commerce consumes the night
where congested crowds can see
only ahead and never beyond.
This night defines many nights -
from the moon's conception to the offspring of stars,
from the fall of creation to today
that will last only 'til the sun tumbles and
these tastes saturate the dark again.
On this particular night the chaos considered a cure.
A tired man grips the hand of his pregnant wife and
they wearily weave through the faces
that enliven the inn to find its keeper.
Their odds favor staying elsewhere,
but they have no other place.
They are left vulnerable.
The man hopes for a vacancy,
grace granted to his wife now nine months along.
He knows the time breathes close.
With another contraction her womb tightens and
she tightly squeezes his hand.
The keeper realizes his dilemma
as they approach.
His speech stumbles;
scratching his head, he knows no room resides.
"I'm sorry," he begins and abruptly diverts,
"but wait," he proceeds, pointing to the cave where the animals rest.
The man, with great thanks,
gently walks his wife to the humble cave where,
the cooing of their baby would cure the chaos outside.
As a hole in heaven's floor,
God looks through the moon and
directs angels in a chorus,
joining all creation in married mirth.
The Savior has come;
God unwrapped;
the night has turned to day.
We pass through similar nights and
never notice the wandering couple
that needs a place to rest.
Our comfortable noise rarely hears
the whisper of divinity in the
naked, the hungry, the imprisoned, the thirsty.
May our hands, heads, and hearts change.
-- Zach Kincaid
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"And the word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14). REJOICE!
-- The Ekklesia Project
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