On Monday we had a lively discussion around the passage of Scripture we were examining, and I came home wide awake. Eventually, climbing into bed, my brain still buzzing I half slept, but was still awake enough to hear a poem running through my mind. Too tired to write it down I fell asleep. But the poem would not leave me. And so, three days later I put pen to paper, and with almost perfect recall, wrote it down.
I smiled as I thought of Samuel Taylor Coleridge who dreamed of Xanadu in his sleep but could only remember a fragment when he woke. His famous poem, Kubla Khan – the only part he could remember – is incomparable, and I do not claim to be a poet of his calibre. But I knew the concern before I wrote that I too may not remember the whole story, yet I realised I could for it is God’s story as He has shared it with us. And so I share it with you, with the prayer it may bless you as you read it.
All creation sang,
The morning star and planets, Suns and moons
And far-flung galaxies.
Known by name, they praise Him;
And the earth sprang green
Where creatures roamed and Love reigned.
Until …
One bite.
Disobedience.
Rebellion.
Sin.
And all creation groaned in unison,
Horrified,
Wounded.
Gates clanged shut behind the disobedient two,
Man and woman,
Their Eden forbidden them;
The bright colours of their world dimmed by sin.
Generations passed.
Creation struggled on,
Yearning for what used to be,
Stretching for what is to come.
For their Creator had promised One who would heal.
One who would pay the price of that one bite.
When would he come – oh, when?
A baby’s cry.
In a dark, cold stable, under a star;
And creation held its breath for a split second.
Here, here was the Saviour!
At last!
Now there would be repentance,
Reconciliation,
Restoration.
But descendants of the two,
Man and woman,
Would not listen.
Only a handful heard.
The twelve – and a few others.
But most rejected,
Turned their backs,
Until …
A hammer smashed a nail
Through flesh and bone,
And the Creator,
Beloved Son,
Hung on a wooden cross
To pay the price.
For sin.
All sin, past, present and future,
Was heaped on Him.
Skies darkened as
Creation and Creator turned their face away,
Unable to watch such evil amassed in one place.
On one Man.
“Did He get it all?
The whisper ran from morning star to planet to far-flung galaxies.
In silence now creation again held her breath
In mourning, a deep grief,
For three days.
And descendants of the two,
Man and woman
Walked on their merry way.
Only a handful wept
Until …
Sun rose, stone rolled aside,
Cloths lay, folded, in an empty tomb,
And all creation sang.
“Yes, He got it all!”
Risen Lord, Creator, Son of God.
The battle won!
The price paid!
Freedom and blessing for all!
The news spread.
The twelve spoke and others caught the spark,
Declared the truth.
Christ is risen!
He has paid the price,
We are washed by His blood.
Only He could do this for us
And He has –
Because He loves us.
The message fell on different soils.
Many turned away,
Man and woman.
Some have yet to hear.
Rejection,
Disobedience,
Sin,
Still seem to have won.
And yet
A few,
A very few,
In every generation,
Listen, hear and follow,
Passing on the news.
Child of God, Christ-follower,
Can you hear creation sing?
The morning star and planets,
Suns and moons and far-flung galaxies?
They sing for Him who came
For He will come again
To fetch His own.
And the earth’s scars will heal
As she springs green
Where creatures roam
And Love reigns.
Until …
One day, one day soon,
He will return.
For He has promised
And He is faithful.
One day … soon
