Consider the Babe

Poem from Paradoxa

Consider the Babe
as foretold in the book of Revelation

So touched by the meekness of his arrival
(swaddled babe and agrarian cradle)
we have neglected the imminent return 
when thundering on a white horse he’ll burn
space, disintegrate time, awaken the dead
with blinding crowns atop his glorious head.
He will annihilate evil with the sword
glittering from his mouth, flesh covered word.
Sweet baby Jesus came sharp as steel:
forever divides shadow from real.

Terrible Lord, radiant in wrath,
same baby boy who made his mother laugh,
same child who grew with questions larger
than answers given by his earthly father,
same teacher whose firm hand stayed the stones
and whose soul yearned for Eternal on his throne.
This unknown name whose steed will ride
and break through last confines of time,
same man whose sandals filled with earthly dust,
same God whose hands received the nail-bit rust.

He came to be the lamb, bearer of the slaughter,
and he’ll come back renown as author
(beginning and end of all yearning stories)
and answer to the jagged seam of glory,
gaping atmospheric wound
sewn through our terrestrial blanket
through which he burst
when zipped in a suit of flesh he smote the curse.
He invites longing children to become his own
while he wrangles sin and stamps it fully down

beneath feet that march on time and water.
Sweet manger baby, before him all desires falter,
shy in the presence of the loveliest one.
Humbled God who stepped down from the sun
into the shadow of the moon’s round run,
same one who will feed to the birds of heaven
the scoffers, the doubters, all in rebellion.
Remember, church, the seals will be broken 
men will be scorched as judgment is spoken,
and sin is entangled in shifting intestines
of the earth’s last earthquake. Final bastions
will fall then into God’s hand and shrivel up 
into his cup of wine—a fiery worship.

Find our man of the manger while you may know his gentle staff,
and wait not to face his blinding, glorious wrath.

---

Composition Notes:

Since the last time I shared this poem on my Substack, it has been published in Paradoxa by Solid Food Press. As Brooke Dreger says in the Preface to this beautiful issue, “We exist as a paradoxical people who worship a paradoxical God in a paradoxical world. Jesus is both servant and King, the most intimate friend and the Name Above All Names.” Our familiarity with the strangeness of the incarnation has rendered it benign in our imaginations, and we need story and song to let us see it anew.

Over a decade ago I heard Francis Chan encourage believers to read the book of Revelation out loud because of the promise in Revelation 1:3 that says, “Blessed is the one who reads, and those who hear the words of the prophecy and keep the things which are written in it; for the time is near.” With vague trepidation, I sat down and read the book straight through like a novel in one sitting. When I finished, I was amazed at its clear picture of future victory. For some reason I had acquired a hazy sense that the book of Revelation was frightening and ominous, full of confusing symbolism which people argued over and dreaded to see come to pass. I was so wrong!

Instead, what emerged from a single-sitting gulp of the book was a clear picture of a returning king who would welcome his people into eternal bliss and punish those who stood against him. This poem was birthed in its entirety as I marveled over the infantilizing modern desire to keep Jesus in his manger instead of embracing the entire narrative arc encompassing Old and New Testament prophesy. I’m not pretending to be an expert on all the symbolism of the book. Yes, passages in it are confusing and open to various interpretations. Yes, there are words and phrases worth parsing and analyzing. But we need to do further research and study with a clear vision of the hope that awaits believers.

Our king is coming back for us, and when he does, all the love and hope of the manger will be resurrected in the victory of the empty tomb and overflow with the glorious reality of Pentecost. The day I wrote this poem, a longing to see Jesus return lodged in my spirit. Whenever I reread Revelation, I see that it is right to feel and live as though his return is immanent. It is wrong to guess and speculate about the day or hour, but it is right to feel the thrum of expectation running through Scripture and through the Spirit’s work in our lives.

May the bride of Christ awake and become ready. May our hearts be renewed today to long for his return.

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” (Revelation 22:17), and we who are thirsty join our cry to theirs.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Promise by MW+