by time, God sees us all. From the backwoods of Virginia to the business
district of London; from the Vikings to the astronauts, from the cave-dwellers
to the kings, from Vagabonds and ragamuffins all, he saw us before we
he loves what he sees. Flooded with emotion. Overcome by pride, the
Starmaker turns to us, one by one, and says, "You are my child.
I love you dearly. I'm aware that someday you'll turn from me and walk
away. But I want you to know, I've already provided a way back."
to prove it, he did something extraordinary.
from the throne, he removed his robe of light and wrapped himself in
skin: pigmented, human skin. The light of the universe entered a dark,
wet tomb. He whom angels worship nestled himself in the placenta of
a peasant, was birthed into the cold night, and then slept on cow's
didn't know whether to give him milk or give him praise, but she gave
him both since he was, as near as she could figure, hungry and holy.
didn't know whether to call him Junior or Father. But in the end called
him Jesus, since that's what the angel had said and since he didn't
have the faintest idea what to name a God he could cradle in his arms.
Don't you think.. their heads tilted and their minds wondered, "What
in the world are you doing, God?" Or, better phrased, "God,
what are you doing in this world?"
anything make me stop loving you?" God asks. "Watch me speak
your language, sleep on your earth, and feel your hurts. Behold the
maker of sight and sound as he sneezes, coughs and blows his nose. You
wonder if I understand how you feel? Look into the dancing eyes of the
kid in Nazareth; that's God walking to school. Ponder the toddler at
Mary's table; that's God spilling his milk.
wonder how long my love will last? Find your answer on a splintered
cross, on a craggy hill. That's me you see up there, your maker, your
God, nail-stabbed and bleeding. Covered in spit and sin-soaked. That's
your sin I'm feeling. That's your death I'm dying. That's your resurrection
I'm living. That's how much I love you."