The box lies wrapped up
Set down for him beneath a tree,
Bedecked with light this day of days
When feasts and gifts are meant to help
Remember what has happened.
To let the celebration run with joy
As a comb drips with honey
More than the mouth can enjoy.
The present has a power within
To lift up from earth to heaven.
In childlike satisfaction at a Christmas gift
The boy stands looking at the package
Enjoying the paper that sparkles
Waiting for the special day
When all can be revealed,
Outer shells cast off revealing treasure.
He comes back many times to gaze
To pick up, feel, shake and rattle
Knowing that prophetic words have
Power to turn promises into reality.
Adverts for this advent
Foretell the great unveiling.
His friends share his confidence
With faith in what is coming.
The greatest technological wizardry
Will propel him to the front
As gifts are shown around his friends.
He will bask in its reflected glory.
The present no longer a future event
But hard evidence with authority.
And he will show and tell repeatedly
With evangelistic fervour.
And on the day of days what then?
As husks of paper lie scattered round
Does anticipation linger on as packaging
Is read, instructions laid by for future use.
Come enjoy the gift to full capacity
Its flashing lights and sounds
Should last until no more power
Flows through its blue and brownish veins.
And then the smile falters at the words
A heartbeat missed, a quickened pulse.
The assurance falters at a stroke
Batteries not included.
Hope deferred sends him quickly
To the father watching, waiting.
Why and how questions already forming,
Willing the gift to life again.
The brief and fleet anger at this test
Emotion fully charges one question
That is answered by a father’s love
He will not betray his son’s trust
He has already thought it through
And gives a second time smiling
Placing into upturned pleading hands
Power to bring any gift to life.
The vision flashed, brilliant as a star
An echo rang down 2000 years
Of celebrations, gifts and grace
Like a Christmas morning peal of bells.
A clarion call to hail imagination’s dawn
That all of us have had a gift
Like the small boy who knelt before
The collection of promises yet to fruit.
I have seen the wrapping of stables,
Frankincense and shepherd boys,
Of choral concerts and mulled wine parties
Mixed in with scriptural renditions
Of child filled mangers and peace
Yes peace and goodwill to all men
Over the two-week holiday period
Family and work commitments permitting.
And I have tried to reconcile the lost
Far away from me and each other.
Travelled the second mile further on
In honour of a tiny helpless babe.
Sought to bring a seasoned cheer to hearts
Caught in winter’s desperate grip.
Time spent in a currency that will devalue
Not wasted, just transient, limited.
My wish for peace and blessing noble
But lacking power like the boy’s gift
So I must run like him arms outstretched
Unsatisfied with just the single present
That was waiting under a tree
That began in Adam’s garden
And finished in Mary’s arms
In a bare cold animal shelter.
The gift lies wrapped up in swaddling bands
Sent down for us beneath a tree of life
Bedecked with light of centuries
His day of days to end the night.
When feasting and gifts are meant for times
Of remembering what was done by You
To help the celebration run with joy
Like a disciple from an empty tomb.
This second gift must come from You
As honey from the comb it runs
More than the heart can bear, believe
Or the mouth enjoy
So I stand in Your presence Father
Requesting more than I received at first.
For Your gift from swaddling bands to shroud
Needs You if I am to live that life.
Incarnate Your son within my heart
And let him live through me
A whole life to your glory
Not just the Christmas season.
That I may go the second mile
Turn the cheek seventy times seven
Lose my life, to be a beacon
A city on a hill that can’t be hid.
That light shining before all men
Will not be hid beneath a tree
But be a savour, a fragrance,
A salting to heal perhaps to cleanse.
I run into Your arms Father
And say “Come Holy Spirit,That I may adore Him”
Batteries weren’t included.
Mike Richardson ©2004
I recently had a picture of a valley between the mountains in Greece. On either side were what looked like temples that were delapidated, fallen into decay. However the Lord showed me that these temples were not delapidated but in the process of being built. The worship music playing at the time reminded me of the regular beat you get at a building site on occasion. The heartbeat of the machines revealing that the temples are a work in progress. Even if from time to time there is a need to undo the work because it wasn't right the first time. 