By Frances Judge
If love were wrapped in golden paper, tied with silken strings,
It couldn’t reach around the world
Or open up its wings.
Love isn’t placed on pedestals, positioned for display;
It needs the flexibility
Of a potter’s clay.
Love doesn’t need embellishment to prove its fortitude;
Its strength is in its meekness
And forgiving attitude.
Love risks its life and swims the depths to save a drowning friend,
But Christ risked all for enemies,
And who can comprehend?
So love was wrapped in swaddling clothes and destined once to die;
Christ would pay the sacrifice,
God’s love, exemplified.
He didn’t wear His royal robes though he was born a king;
He wore the love His Father gave
Of which the angels sing.
Love doesn’t wait for storms to stop to cross the swirling seas;
Jesus walked across the water,
Turned tempest into breeze.
Love washes feet, love heals the blind, love cries with those who mourn,
And has power to erase the past
Of those who are reborn.
So love unwrapped its burial clothes and prepared to reach the nations,
With angels calling all the earth,
“Join the celebration!”