The prophetic pronunciations
slip silently over our
Ours is not Isaiah’s vigil –
our exile is not so brutal as it once was.
Oh, we are still exiled – bound and fettered –
but ours is self-inflicted.
We keep a willing distance from Divinity,
our choices, poor substitutions.
Yet listen to that advent call!
The promised resolution is revealed
and God waits for our resolve to crumble.
For we have failed in our promises;
we too have turned our backs –
lost sight of glorious grace that meets us still
Jesus, whose birth sparked
riots of joy
among the down and out crowd.
Jesus, whose birth attendants
stood in steamy stables;
Jesus answers ancient promises
and stirs our current questions
and today we mark the season (still)
of waiting – our liturgical reminder
that though the waiting is not over,
God is more persistent, by far,
The story told afresh
will give new hope,
to serve and be served