He was born in an obscure village,
the child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in still another village
where he worked in a carpenter’s shop
until he was thirty.
He did none of the things one usually
associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.
He was only thirty-three when
public opinion turned against him.
He was turned over to his enemies
When he was dead he was laid
in a borrowed grave.
Nineteen centuries have passed and today
he is the central figure of the human race.
No one has affected the life of man on earth
as much as that one solitary life.
This was originally a sermon written by Dr James Allan Francis in 1926. It has since become shorter and tweaked by various people and from an anonymous source.
Why wait for the gift that has already come?
Why wait to meet the guest already here?
Why wait for the child already born?
In the wait we see the beauty of the gift
In the wait we encounter the true presence of the guest
In the memory of the wait we know the child who holds us This item was posted on Sunday Papers by Richard Passmore