A kind and gentle man was he, Full of love and honesty. But the mystery of Christ’s descent, To him, seemed strange and poorly spent.
“The incarnation makes no sense,” He said, with logic as defense. God becoming man to save, Felt like a tale the faithful gave.
On Christmas Eve, his family went, To church, in worship reverent. He stayed behind with hearth aglow, Unmoved by truths he didn’t know.
But then a sound, a frantic thud, Shook his peace and stirred his blood. At the window, again it came, A muffled beat, a desperate aim.
He ventured out into the cold, And there, a scene began to unfold. A flock of birds, lost in the storm, Shivered, seeking shelter warm.
His heart, so tender, swelled with care, To save the birds from bitter air. The barn! A haven, safe and dry, He opened the door, the light held high.
But fear had gripped the fragile flock, His human presence felt a shock. He scattered crumbs, he waved them near, But still, they fled in helpless fear.
“If only I could be like them,” He thought, beneath the moon’s dim hem. “To speak their tongue, to share their way, And guide them to the light of day.”
Then from the distance, church bells rang, A holy song the heavens sang. And in that moment, truth took hold, A story ancient, yet retold.
God became man, He stooped so low, To guide the lost through blinding snow. The man, now kneeling, bowed his head, The bells’ sweet song, his spirit fed.
For now he saw what once was dim, Why Christ had come to dwell with him. Like the man and the frightened birds, God showed His love through deeds, not words.
So on that night, beneath the star, The man found God was never far. And in his heart, a fire burned bright, A newfound faith, a guiding light.
