Let us adore him.


For rivers and stars,

for forests breathing praise,

for mountains rising to point the way,

for deserts holding secrets for seekers,

for the riotous jungles,

for the unknown ocean deeps,

for plains of provision hiding kernels of life.


Let us adore him.


For evening light falling into corners,

for the joyful clutter spread around the house,

for the smell of baking bread,

for the crackling fireside,

for the green deep uncurling under snow.


Let us adore him.


For the quiet in the night.

For the holding of hands.

For unseen music rising like prayer.

For tears unwasted, held close.

For the room grief makes within us to hear.


Let us adore him.


For candlelit faces,

for lanterns along the path,

for stars spilling into blackness,

for sunrise,

for blazing fire.


For all the ways he lights the dark,

for how he makes the way

for us to receive him,

for the sharing of suffering.


Let us adore him,

for he comes and comes.


He comes in the way we need it most

though we, like children, resist.

He always comes.

May we open our hands

to hold the gift.

May we carry it with us,

become a part of this river of his advent.

May we in our griefs clasp the light,

stretch it out like his arms reaching for us,

holding us close in his coming.


May we ourselves be his coming to the world,

fractured light vessels

ushering the holy.

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