Caught alive in the womb of a virgin girl,

Oh what majesty.

Born in a manger where cattle cower in dirt.

Oh what humility!

 

Wrapped in swaddling clothes,

Inexpensive, unattractive;

Oh what an arrival to this earth!

 

Alive in the temple,

Discourses with teachers of the law,

Oh what divine intelligence!

 

Dirty slippers walking through villages and homes,

Relieving people of fevers and taking up their burdens.

At the mountainsides with huge multitudes,

Before them opening treasures that last forever.

 

By the graves of dead men He speaks,

And dry bones get up and dead bodies have fresh heartbeats.

 

Hungry crowds gather at His feet,

And from the abundance of His treasures,

He feeds them with what is little in human eyes;

Yet they remain precious in His sight.

 

He gathers enemies and some seek to kill Him.

They accost Him, but He is not caught unaware.

He knows that He can conquer death,

Yet He opens the tomb’s doors to keep His sinless body, three days.

 

What is He upto?

It is the emblem of love-

The cross that He seeks to make visible.

He brings it up as a piece of wood,

Cheap enough to break,

Old enough to rot,

Yet carrying the capable body

Of the sinless one-

Making His appearance visible

For the whole world to see.

 

His hand is stretched out,

And He says, “come.”

This indescribable gift broke through the portals of the grave.

The rocks and pebbles could not contain the Holy one within their temporary and weak walls.

They came in search of Him at the tomb, but He the Master of time knew when to spring back forth to eternal life. This He did for me and you that death shall no longer be an enemy, but that we remain conquerors unto His glory.

He ascended on stronger wings than that of an eagle, and broke through the skies to His throne; the one whose splendours He left and surrendered so He could come and wash our filth here below.

He is at the highest seat now. Angels adore and worship Him. They sing, “Holy, Holy, Holy.” He sends them on errands to earth to help us weaklings that we may begin to grow our wings to maturity in readiness for the last flight beyond the skies to the eternal destination.

He is working on our books. Isn’t He the Author of Faith? The Master Teacher who knows our names?

The Accountant who numbers our hairs? The Divine Guide who explains to us the journey of the Holy Script? The Sacred Nurse who soothes our wounds with the Balm of Gilead? He is all these and much more.

 

He is ready for the last flight down! This time not a cross, but to descend surrounded by the holy, angelic hosts; adorned and surrounded by the rainbow across His throne- the representative for all nations; coming back to pick up them that believe on Him, from all peoples, tongues, tribes, kindred and nations.

Consequently, you give us strength to fly with you to the rainbow throne ; a rainbow nation, colourful in your eyes, eating at your table of grace now fulfilled. Fruits of righteousness to grow forever more in your garden of love. Walking through your vineyards and enjoying peace with you and with one another forever more.

This indescribable gift has made us indescribable; to the angelic host and unto the whole universe. How?

Your death on the cross was a blood transfusion to our hearts’ veins, to beat with life forever more if we will accept your syringe of discipline and your bandage to cover our ugly scars.

All voices join in the chorus, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” for thou hast made us holy , and you our recompense of life has empowered us to live for you forever. The final choir is formed, and new songs we learn day after day after day unto eternity. Amen.

~Beryl Nyamwange

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