by Zach Kincaid
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. But time eroded the gift into assumption, and assumption into ungrateful expectation. People began to plan and plot for ways to store it up and keep it only for themselves.
So the sky retreated into a far off land above the earth. As the sun dipped low the people saw the holes spread out, dotting the sky with light from somewhere beyond. Then they realized how large a canvas once covered them.
Loneliness and uncertainty became commonplace. No one knew the intentions of heaven and few understood why she kept her distance. They didn't suspect that the sky must parachute open in order for true sustenance to fall inside it.
Years produced lines in the sand. But the earth finally bloomed. Wild orchards and lilies marked the fields with an array of color, hinting back to the sky's magic still dripping down.
And then it happened all over again.
The mountains knelt into the valleys. The parachute descended. An unassuming daughter swaddled God underneath a sky ripped open to show a love unwavered from generations of guessing.
Eternity reordered time, radiance put on skin, heaven walked the earth... and the kingdom of God... is now.
Glory to God in the highest.
His arms are long enough to embrace us still today.