When I Think of Christmas



When I think of Christmas I think of the King of Love laid in a manger –

Sovereignty supine under sterling stars twinkling through millennia of delight,

Sublimity submitted to the gaze of cherubim and seraphim and slack-jawed shepherds.


When I think of Christmas I think of a Son,

A Son, whose tiny hands, emptied of Omnipotence, outstretched from the eternal Embrace,

Nailed to a tree –

A tree of death – bearing my Exclusion!


When I think of Christmas I think of swaddling clothes

Later to be exchanged for a seamless robe and then for a torn veil,

And then, for a burial shroud turned inside out.


When I think of Christmas I think of no room in the inn

And later finding an upper room so as to lay my head on Him Who breaks His Body,

Who pours out His blood,

Who lays down His life for His friends.


When I think of Christmas I think,

Friends walking in Embrace:

“Do not our hearts burn within us, from that first day until now,

Whenever Christmas comes to our house?”



© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Myth Born as Fact

“The heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact. The old myth of the Dying God, without ceasing to be myth, comes down from the heaven of legend and imagination to the earth of history. It happens — at a particular date, in a particular place, followed by definable historical consequences. We pass from a Balder or an Osiris, dying nobody knows when or where, to a historical Person crucified (it is all in order) under Pontius Pilate. By becoming fact it does not cease to be myth: that is the miracle.”


Myth became fact, essay published in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics, C. S. Lewis


Art by Carol Bomer

 UNTIL SHILOH COMES (36″ X 36″ giclee on canvas)





Look! Joseph!  Look!

Space and time converge

In my belly!





The Three-in-One now resides

Etched within a black and white sonogram:

A baby (no storm in a tea cup!)!

See the heart beating? The limbs akimbo?

“Put your hand on my side, Thomas.”

Can you feel the sound waves of My Being: Your God and My God immersed in time?

Yes! I feel it!

A kick!

A belly full of kenosis!

Fetal tissue,

Hanging on limbs –

The weight of glory descending down –

Soon will suffer evil

To save hoary Adam,

Banishing the body’s self-absorption called Death

From the garden and

For all.

(A womb may hold Him;  A tomb can not.)


© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved