A Prayer of Advent

When You were born,

Your blood covered us,

the huge masses of tiny people.


All futures and all pasts,

we were hemmed into Your baby cry,

the cry of all cries, promise of all promises.


Jesus, Your very fingertips held the DNA,

the beginning code for all holiness.


Those animals near You and far outstretched,

they saw Your radiance,

perhaps even the human onlookers missed.


The very grassy bed You slept on

rejoiced at Your touch,

those bristly tendrils

who awaited Your birth for so long,

who clung to You as to life.


Now today, dear One, we wait.


We imagine You, infant Son,

and then we fast-forward our hopes

to Your coming as full-bodied radiance once again,

but with holes in Your sides, hands, and feet,

with scars on Your brow,

with all of humanity’s history reflected in Your eyes.


And we will run to You,

“Savior, Savior! Your advent has come

and redemption brings us home.”


And You will smile and say,

“Oh, Beloved, you’ve been home

since the beginning,

and now you see as

I see,

all holiness




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