Oh, God, I am heavy
with glory. My head thunders
from singing in the hills.
This night will come once.
Enough bright lights.
at the shepherds in the fields.
Let me slip into the stable
and crouch among
the rooting swine.
Let me close my eyes
and feel the child’s breath,
this wind that blows
through the mountains and stars,
lifting my weary wings.
~Tania Runyon , “Angel at the Nativity”
What a night for an angel!
Even when you’ve been God’s messenger carrying news of this impending birth to earth, the reality of it astounds.
Then it’s’s all over but the shouting, and there was plenty of noise that night. The shouting continues to this day and is not always celebratory. The divisive voices of those who believe in our Savior’s birth have become angry and vindictive. It is enough to make an angel weep.
Let us not drag angels into the pigpen with us. Let them fly high, singing of peace and gladness and good will.
In the meantime, we are stuck in the mucky mire of disagreement. The breath of this dear Child will lift us up and renew us, strengthening us for what is to come.
He knows He would find us wallowing in the mud, so He came looking for us there first.
Once coaxed out of the mud, only then will He take us to the mountaintop.