HEAVENLY METEORITE HURTLING

 

Heavenly meteorite hurtling

Unseen but deeply felt

If never fully realised

By those who’ve never knelt

The tremors they ripple across all time

The poets at last can find their rhyme

Heavenly meteorite hurtling.

 

Heavenly meteorite hurtling

As usual but all amiss

History  stripped of how it was

To how from now on it is

The radical revolution all a shudder

Old way surrendering to this new other

Heavenly meteorite hurtling

 

Heavenly meteorite hurtling

Unnoticed but all askew

Thrones thrown out of kilter

The meek inherit what’s new

The repercussions spin out forever

Imaginers threading peace back together

Heavenly meteorite hurtling.

 

Christmas seems to happen so quietly. God is born in an out of the way place. He's not even in an Inn. The hymn writers would call it a silent night. They would give the impression of all being calm. The soft skin of a new born baby has been laid in the softest straw. 

I have always imagined that spiritually it is anything but gentle or calm. My theological imagination has poetically sensed that that first Christmas morning was like God scrunching up a hunk of heavenly semtex in his hand and hurling his holy values at a planet that needed knocked out of step with its self serving ways of power and wealth. 

When Jesus landed on earth from heaven he hit with a jolt and knocked everything from the way it was into how it would be. God's upside down Kingdom was world changing.