This Baby

This is our God.

This baby bouncing in through
the back door,
when we were all waiting at the
window for a Saviour in shining armour to show up on the front step.

This faint breath of muted majesty,
cradled amongst straw casings and dung.

This lullaby for a lost world, that wasn’t listening.

But shepherds found this little Lamb, this Spirit-sword that would pierce through Mary’s heart—tear our eternal separation in two from top to bottom—and make its lodging in mine.

This thief, stealing into the straw casings and sewage of my private shame, to buy me back, so I could walk out the front door again with dignity.

This Good Shepherd-Lamb,

This peasant King.

This is my Saviour,

This is our God.