IS HE REAL?

On this most exciting of nights…

Once again as jingle bells ring,

 We wonder… Is he real?

The man with the beard,

The One around whom Christmas revolves.

The ‘reason for the season’?

Is he real?

Does he truly steal into our homes?

To leave gifts so personal and pertinent?

And does he truly know, if we’ve been naughty or nice?

Is he real? For many come in his name,

Many come dressed up, in the guise of truth,

Yet surely there can only be, ONE

ONE, that we can’t see with human eyes

ONE  we can only see, with ‘Christmas eyes’,

With awesome whispers of… ‘has he been’?

Is he real?

Are we the ones who shape this image?

Or does another One create this reality, this supernatural mystery?

For why would we weave a myth,

when reality is so much more wondrous than, ‘merely magical’?

The one for whom we pause at Christmas, was not yet a man.  

For when we  ponder and look closer, we notice…

There were no black boots to fit his feet,

No cosy, furry red coat to keep him warm,

His beard was but the residue of birth, smeared and blooded.

No HO HO HO ringing round that stricken place

as the Christmas visitor arrived into a stable’s sobbing silence,

welcomed only by the most insignificant.

Yet he arrived to bring priceless gifts, so personal and pertinent.

Not with a HO HO HO,

but the song of HOLY HOLY HOLY echoing across hillsides,

to jingle the spirits of those with ears to hear.

The man who steals into our home, Into this world wasn’t always a man.

He who was, and is, is everlasting; for he is Love himself.

The Word who became flesh.

The Word that ‘languaged’ life itself

The creator of holly and ivy, of reindeer and mistletoe, of snow and stars.

Who became small enough to fit the womb of a woman.

Became small enough, so that we now are invited to gaze upon truth swaddled in a mother’s love.

The ‘reason for the season’ was birthed so we might believe.

Our unseen God, became…visible,

Yes…. he’s real all right!

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