After they listened to the devil’s sweet nothings, all nature groaned. “How can it be? These God-bearers fall from a cliff when they can hide in the cleft. In a bite, in a whisper, they plot out how to unwrap dependence.

O come,
Between Heaven and Hell,
Earth, formless and void.
O come 
Between God’s breath and the serpent’s deception,
a couple sins.

In those days of Caesar Augustus, you could see the Temple from the nearby fields where shepherds tended sheep, raised as a ready sacrifice for a person’s sin.

The desert of unprophetic years turns on a moment. It catches stars and pulls them in close like a surgeon caring for a dying patient. An angel descends looking for a certain teenage girl named Mary. When he locates her, she is startled by his appearance and his announcement. The nature of the news invites her to question…

If you sit on the edge of the mountainous terrain of southern Jerusalem, you can see Herodium in the distance as it hovers over the particular lowly city of Bethlehem, just three miles away.

Hannah is the mother of Samuel, the greatest prophet of Israel. Year after year, she and her husband prayed to have a child, but God didn’t bless them. Before her song in I Samuel 2, we find Hannah weeping outside the Tabernacle.

After they listened to the devil’s sweet nothings, all nature groaned. “How cant it be? These God bearers fall from a cliff when they can hide in the cleft. In a bite, in a whisper, they plot to unwrap dependence…”

The Christmas season poses a heightened challenge to us: can we look beyond ourselves and into the divinity that has come down from heaven in the person of Jesus? Not that alone, but can we embrace the uncertainty that comes from total surrender?

don't be afraid. / this must be amazing grace, / electricity in the air, / a galvanic presence from beyond, / brought down and tangled up / in chalcedon blessing; / son of God, son of man.

Make me your Bethlehem,
humble and waiting
for Israel's prophet who sows the root of Jesse
to reap the very Son of God.

He moves into place and pushes off the uterine wall, lodging his head in the cervix. He sinks lower, ready to break out, or in, like a thief.

In the old days, the sky roamed much closer. Legend speaks of people peeling it off and eating it for food. Its abundance created a peace in all corners of the earth because no one wanted for anything.

Long ago Sarah laughed. Her furrowed womb would finally be full, a miracle to outdo the stars. Every part of her flesh came alive.