The Innkeeper’s Dream
I remember hearing this as a boy and thinking… “too long!”
I remember hearing this as a teenager and feeling a stirring in my soul.
I remember hearing this as a college student and weeping and then wanting to write.
I know now the joy of listening. Of sitting still and letting storytellers shine a new sun on an old story. So I sit in a chair, waiting for my own children to be old enough to enjoy the story told anew, listening. Someday, when the story has changed its luster for my own, we will sit and listen and let the joy run down our cheeks.
The link above is to a site that is streaming the performance… or was.
Today I present to you an astonishing poem, post Old Testament Psalm. One that must be read AND heard. The heart-wrenching simplicity I ignored early on. Now it is what reduces me to tears. Find a snippet online, buy the song, buy the album. Just figure out a way to listen to it.
Behold the Lamb of God – Andrew Peterson
Behold, the Lamb of God
Who takes away our sin
Behold the Lamb of God
The life and light of men
Behold the Lamb of God
Who died and rose again
Behold the Lamb of God who comes
To take away our sin
Broken hearts–behold our broken hearts
Fallen far–we need you
Behold the Lamb of God
Son of God–Emmanuel
Son of Man–we need you
Behold the Lamb
The hope of man
Behold the Lamb of God
The verses that get me more than the rest…
37 “For no word from God will ever fail.” (the Angel)
38 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her.
May we all be blessed with such a willing heart in the face of such upheaval.
(full disclosure: this was for yesterday)
My sweet children love to know what their names mean. Lately they’ve taken to adding the meaning to the recitation of their names… i.e. “I’m Margret Pearl” or “I’m Louisa Joy Mighty Warrior.” It makes us laugh, but also rejoice. The meaning of names is vital. My eldest, the Pearl, loves that her name means something beautiful. My current youngest, to no surprise, fits the warrior bill quite well as a second child and feisty two year old.
My imagination runs wild with ideas when I see my own children playing with their names. What did a 2 year old Jesus do. “My name is Jesus Immanuel Prince of Peace Horn of Salvation Tender Shoot Lion Of…..” and then he’d be interrupted by his parents. I can only imagine that this was the conversation that Joseph had with Jesus as he was putting him to sleep and trying to tiptoe out of the room. You parents out there know that when you’re moving to the door the sneakiness comes out. “Papa, tomorrow I….. want….. toooooooooooo” and the thought never really finishes, but you feel beholden to lend an ear.
I love the names of Jesus and as a kid made ornaments out of paper, coloring in a picture of one of the names. Each of us brothers as well as mom and dad were given a few names of Christ to draw up on a small circle of paper. We could do it in any way we wanted. These were then “framed” with red construction paper and strung through with thread so they’d hold on a tree. They never ended up on our tree, but we had a marvelous garland in the kitchen where they would be added after reading the corresponding passage at the dinner table. It was a wonderful memory and my parents still have them. I think we’re a few years and for sure one, but maybe two children away from doing the same at our household. Many blogs and websites have their own templates for doing this sort of thing. I’d encourage any and everyone to make an effort on this. There are fewer more important things than knowing the depth of who Christ is. The importance of the meaning and history of a name can’t be understated. What a great transition from the meaning of each child’s name to the meaning of the Maker.
Again, a little behind. But as Christmas approaches I have no doubt that that will be a struggle.
As the events of the weekend settle on the community, state, nation, and world I can’t help but cry out, “Come Lord Jesus.”
More than 2000 years ago, Jesus came and began this whole redeeming thing. The cries then were that of now.
“Come Lord Jesus, Come.”
Acceptance is a big word. A big one. A cultural buzz word along with Tolerance and Diversity. Not that those are bad words, just that it’s hard to go anywhere without hearing them. While searching for what to write about, reading, re-reading, I came across a simple heading. A heading placed on a set of paragraphs in the version of the Gospels penned by Matthew. It was added by a publishing house acting, undoubtably, with Joy and Jesus in their hearts, but the words are far from canonical. Needless to say it stuck with me.
“Joseph Accepts Jesus as His Son.” Those are indeed huge words. Nowadays we men are part of the birth. We’re often in attendance, whether on the ground or not. A portion of society opines that there is no choice in whether you accept a child born to you, it is your child, plain and simple. There are countries, and opinions, and talk-shows that would deem otherwise, but largely we accept our children. Not so, once. So how monumental is it that Joseph, this father who had nothing physical to do with this child, would out of trust, accept this boy as his son. I think far more than we know.
I have been more fascinated than ever about the portion of the birth story regarding Elizabeth and Zechariah. In part, I’m sure, because I sit down intending to read the full story and end up stuck in Chapter One. There are beautiful truths, astonishing statements of faith, and the beautiful language of the speechless parents. Take the ending of Zechariah’s Song… the prayer for his son.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace. – Luke 1:76-79
How gorgeous. Can you see a new, but old, father, cradling his only son whispering prophetic future to him? What recognition his son would have! I believe that in that moment Zechariah knew about the camel’s hair and the honey and the grasshoppers. He knew about the “Repent for the Kingdom is near!” He knew his son would wander into the desert and disappear. But also, he knew that right then, he was in his arms. Perhaps being rocked to sleep. The language is both forthright and soft. Gentle and strong. “Prophet of the Most High” and “tender mercies.” “Give his people knowledge” and “Shine on those living in darkness.” Zechariah is a good father. He would lose his temper, to be sure. He’d probably flip out when John said he was going to the desert. He’d be frustrated nearly to the point of yelling with all of John’s doddling. He’d wonder if he was going to get more than 5 hours of sleep ever again. Yet, he knew his son would herald the grace and peace of the Most High. He knew that he was now inextricably linked to the forgiveness of sins, even in a sideways way. Grace, peace, mercy, and joy were coming to his people.
Zechariah and John – art by Jonathan Case