Green Shoots

Green leaves all fallen, withered and dry;
Brief sunset fading, dim winter sky.
Lengthening shadows, Dark closing in…
Then, through the stillness, carols begin!

Oh fallen world, to you is the song—
Death holds you fast and night tarries long.
Jesus is born, your curse to destroy!
Sweet to your ears, a carol of Joy!

Pale moon ascending, solemn and slow;
Cold barren hillside, shrouded in snow;
Deep, empty valley veiled by the night;
Hear angel music—hopeful and bright!

Oh fearful world, to you is the song—
Peace with your God, and pardon for wrong!
Tidings for sinners, burdened and bound—
A carol of joy! A Saviour is found!

Earth wrapped in sorrow, lift up your eyes!
Thrill to the chorus filling the skies!
Look up sad hearted—witness God’s love!
Join in the carol swelling above!

Oh friendless world, to you is the song!
All Heaven’s joy to you may belong!
You who are lonely, laden, forlorn—
Now unto you, A Saviour is born!

It looks bad. It is bad. Everywhere is under siege—past siege, in many places, in full surrender or betrayal.

But try as they might, Christmas endures, and never ends. Time will pass, and all their folly will crash down—but Christmas will endure, a giant rolicking party of laughter, sometimes temporarily paused or attenuated, but never extinguished.

It’s the same as ever: they push too hard, and wake some up—more than they expected. We are in for Saints again.

There are green shoots.

Beyond your sight, there are groups—some earthly, some heavenly—organizing, working, preparing in secret, to arrive to the rescue at the last minute.

Remember: if you’re reading this, you are the resistance.

P.S. If you need help, contact me.