The Creator became the "created."
He came, not in a way anyone
Would expect the Lord Most High
To come to earth.
There was no pomp and circumstance,
No fanfare, no fireworks, no parade.
He came amidst the smells and dirt
Of a barn, born as a baby--
Helpless, frail, needy.
Livestock greeted Him to earth.
Their feed trough was His bed.
The angels announced His birth
Not to kings or emperors or emissaries,
But to lowly sheep tenders.
These men with dirt under their fingernails
And manure under their boots
Were entrusted with spreading the news
Of the birth of God's own Son.
He came, unexpected and unannounced
In the midst of dirt and filth
To show us the way to Heaven--
Descending to serve, stooping to love.
He came as one of us,
Showing us how to live and to love;
Loving us fully--even as a babe
Wrapped in cloths and laid to sleep
In a feed trough in a stable.
Great is His love;
Great is our joy.