In the beginning
was not thunder,
but a hush..
God learning how to whisper
inside a human chest.
No crown, no iron certainty.
Only a child
teaching light
how to be small enough
to enter the world
without breaking it.
He said: the kingdom is near..
not in the sky,
not behind locked gates,
but trembling inside
the ordinary moment
where mercy chooses you.
He touched the unclean
and made holiness contagious.
He forgave before repentance,
loved before proof,
and called that truth.
Blessed are the poor, he said
not because suffering is sacred,
but because God refuses
to look away.
Blessed are the meek..
for they do not confuse domination
with strength.
He broke bread
like a spell against despair.
He washed feet
as if to say:
the divine kneels
or it is not divine at all.
And when the world asked for power,
he answered with surrender.
When it demanded spectacle,
he offered silence.
When it chose the cross,
he chose forgiveness..
still wild, still unreasonable.
Christmas is this mystery..
eternity consenting to time,
love consenting to wounds,
God trusting humanity
with God.
So tonight,
let us not celebrate loudly.
Let us listen.
For Christ is born
each time we choose compassion
over certainty,
mercy over victory,
love over fear.
The star still burns..
not above us,
but within.