"Coursing Indepthrible Plasms..." A Fictitious Christmas Prelude.

I wrote a poem once. It was a Christmas poem, but I didn't know that at first. I know no words can do justice to Christ's love. We cannot give up dejected because of that, however. In short. I made up words. This blog is that poem. Only in prose form. Let us begin...

Then the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”

Luke 2:10-14

These are the words that we get used to. From the obligatory Christmas Eve service to A Charlie Brown Christmas, you had to expect them to show up in this blog. But don't they just "sedgeline the hairs and emotives" that poach your neck and sizzle in your heart? It's a chilling piece really. But something occurred before this little "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" scenario. A sacrifice happened.

When most people think about the sacrifice of Christ it is Him pegged to a cross, and oh what a sacrifice that was. But the sacrifice comes before then. Much before.

I imagine Jesus Christ in Heaven. The threshold, overlooking the small, blue, beautiful orb, spoken to life by his Father, Himself. Spinning in the silence, it was not his trophy. We were...are. His "solar eyes" were affixed on the passage he would take through the "trampdom," through the "anthral empire" which we were making a sorry show of. But the show he saw was to be even sorrier. It was all before Him. The worst of it being exposure. Exposure to discomfort, previously unknown. To the sin that would "horrify His divinity." He saw the confinement. His omniscience and omnipotence corralled into a single cerebral "comburstion." Pain, fear, sorrow. Everything that comes with humanity. He saw disbelief among His loved ones. He saw ridicule and temptation. He saw betrayal. He saw when He was arrested and the whip slurped the blood from His back. He cringed with each pound of the nail that would be His future. The beating, the spitting, the dehydration. He saw it all.

But He saw something else.

He saw us. Not only when were in church or with our noses in a Bible. But when we were dragging His name through the mud, wasting His salvation, and cursing His love. He looked at all this, with the wind rushing past His spirit, and looked down again through the "grayened sky" with a lightening-ridden yard, with the greatest Christmas Carol, the greatest Anthem, ever heard blasting through the unknown atmosphere to enhance the fiercest love of all time, and He said, "Let's Go."

The anecdote just given, though embellished, is a fact. No night has ever proved so marvelously enchanting. Our Saviour took the jump, His heart racing as quick as it formed, and fell right into the swaddling earth. The baby only barely breathed was the product of a decision of love. He saw it all. The credits were far from rolling, the greatest story ever told, was just beginning. Thank You.

From me to you, have a Merry Christmas. I hope the year has left you with cherished memories. Here's hoping that tomorrow is a celebration and in everything you are honoring our Saviour. Rest peacefully on this Christmas Eve. You are beloved of God and worth it all to him. "Celebrate the Day!" I wish many more Joyful and Peaceful Christmases to you on each one of your Classical Rides.

Merry Christmas

The Poem

Coursing indepthrible plasms...
Did you want to do it?
Was it all a great adventure?
When you fell from the grayened sky to what could hurt you most?
Did you see me sitting here tonight
a blue glow on my crying cradle taking up someon's air? Oblivious ammense
the melodious strictangles and bleeting?
Were you surprised? Did your solar
eyes widen? Did you wonder at your
now divided hands or condition at your omniscient
comburstion?
Did the cutions sedgeline the hairs and emotives
of all those whom you cherished.
Was it more than a ficticious wave that
horrified your divinity?
Did you feel your regality though you glided through our trampdom
Or did you
willfully connect as a sect in our anthral empire?
Was it allowed to stray from the plan when your nature became ideative?
Did the journey transcend all that can be dictionaired
and thus resort to this?
Because when we run out of words to say or just none can
rive the deed.
We slake off in bitterst defeat and give not another thought.
Staying with all the polititudes. Afraid to visit the hue from which He fell, afraid to astonish or invent.
Believing the trees to be just fine though too maystained to
branch out.
So the myths they still remain undrawn but they
best represent the truth.
Did you do the impossible? Can I not try my
best?
I know that there aren't words and that harbrynths
won't explain, so I'll shief avante gardens and sing-hai brand new glories for you.

http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/tracks#Celebrate%20the%20day%20relient%20k