Philippians 2 keeps inserting itself into my calm and serene picture
of a child born in a small town
with animals bedding down
shepherds visiting
Kings searching
stars aligning
What happens to the pressure of glory
the volume of godness
when all is reduced to the womb of a virgin
released to the shelter of a manger
growing into the hands of a carpenter
splintered onto the wood of a cross?
When the nails pierced glory,
did glory begin to seep out through the skin, dripping onto the ground
... bursting through death into a resurrection
that led all of creation into its wake?
Death, nor life,
powers nor earth
could contain this glory.
But for a moment in time,
all of eternity held its breath
God breathed through the lungs of a man.
Laid down glory and claim to power.
What happens to a universe when glory is held in one small child?
Perhaps it will take the rest of eternity to unfold ...
