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The Home for Christian Writers! Matthew 6:33
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From a Baby to a Savior
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He reached out with His tiny hand,
To grasp His mother’s finger.
Mary smiled to show her joy,
To the bright big eyes of her Son.
She sang a sweet lullaby,
And stroked her baby’s head.
He turned His eyes all about,
To wander through the stable.
Joseph laughed with fatherly delight,
And stretched out a loving touch.
He rubbed the sole of Jesus’ foot,
In awe of the babe’s new life.
From His head with fuzzy hair,
To His wriggling tiny toes,
A child sent from heaven,
Sleeping in a manger of hay.
Mary looked upon her Son,
To study His pudgy fingers.
His hands were made so very small,
So vulnerable to the world.
The tiny creases curled around,
A rough piece of scattered hay.
Looking for His mother’s warmth,
Security He needed.
His head was rounded to perfection,
Dark hair just showing through.
His eyes glowed with expectant wonder,
Trying to capture the world.
Mary brushed His glowing cheek,
Her soft caress calming Him.
The love she felt just right then,
Was worth any trouble she’d had.
The minutes turned into hours,
The hours turned into days.
Weeks flew by so very fast,
As a babe became a boy.
The hands that were so delicate,
Now held carpenter’s tools.
The soft and gentle creases,
Became hard from long work days.
The head of hair filled out,
To show His growing age.
The bright dark eyes too matured,
Seeing deeper than the surface.
His feet once small and vulnerable,
Now wore sandals to walk the earth.
His incoherent baby talk,
Became words for men to live by.
Weeks became months,
And months turned into years.
Quickly they were gone,
A boy was now a man.
Mary saw her Son,
Through eyes filled with tears.
Where once He held carpenter’s tools,
Now nails pierced His skin.
His eyes once bright with wonder,
Now looked down with sadness.
His feet now were bare again,
This time, with nails straight through them.
Hung on a cross to save the world,
His image was less than appealing.
His once perfect head and brow,
Now held a crown of thorns.
Blood poured out from all His wounds,
To cover a world of sin.
Despite human want for rage,
He never stopped His love.
The cross - gruesome to some of them,
So beautiful to many others.
A death that was not final,
A grave that was not eternal.
Today we see a babe in a manger,
Hands that are tiny and soft.
It’s wonderful to celebrate,
The birth of our Lord and King.
But when we see those baby hands,
Remember what they became.
Remember the long harsh nails,
That pierced His flesh for you.
When you see that perfect head,
Smooth, tender and glowing,
Think about the crown of thorns,
That never reached
When you look down at His feet,
Covered with bits of straw,
Remember the blood and dirt they wore,
Out of love for you and me.
Mary looked down at her sleeping baby,
A tear of joy filling her eye.
This child was God’s child…
The Savior of the world.
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