Friday, 22 December 2017

Post 196--First Coming--by Madeleine L'Engle


I do not know much about Madeleine L'Engle, but I do know whose "First Coming" she's talking about in her  poem.  I'll give you a chance to beat me to it.  Say it!........  Yes, you're right: Jesus's. I found this poem in a church bulletin last night. I immediately changed my plan for this post and decided to let you in on Madeleine's poetic musing.  A fine one it is. Simple, eloquent, true. 

Here it is. Make this pre-Christmas day of Friday worthwhile by doing your own musing on Jesus' birth--the Incarnation, as we call it in proper theological term.  The core of that word is the Latin "Carnus" or some such form, which means "flesh" or "meat. You come across it in words like "carnal" and "carnivore." So guess what "incarnation" refers to--Jesus coming into our flesh and blood, taking on our body.  But let me not digress....


                                                     First Coming

                                He did not wait till the world was ready,
                                till men and nations were at peace.
                                He came when the heavens were unsteady
                                and prisoners cried out for release.   

                                He did not wait for the perfect time.                                     
                                He came when the need was deep and great.
                                He died with sinners in all their grime,
                                turned water into wine.

                                He did not wait till hearts were pure.
                                In joy He came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
                                To a world like ours, of anguished shame
                                He came, and His Light would not go out.

                                He came to a world which did not mesh,
                                to heal its tangles, shield its scorn
                                In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
                                The Maker of the stars was born.

                                 We cannot wait till the world is sane
                                 To raise our songs with joyful voice,
                                 For to share our grief, to touch our pain,
                                 He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

                                 

No comments:

Post a Comment