Christmas on the Edge

Today he sets the center on the edge;

The edge of town, the outhouse of the inn

The fringe of empire, far from privilege

And power, on the edge and outer spin

Of turning worlds, a margin of small stars

That edge of galaxy itself light years

From some unguessed at cosmic origin.

Today he sets the centre at the edge.

And from this day our world is re-alighned;

A tiny seed unfolding in the womb

Becomes the source from which we all unfold

And flower into being. We are all healed,

The end begins, The tomb becomes a womb

For now in him all things are re-aligned.

- Malcolm Guite

Malcolm read this poem tonight at church and it reminded me of where God continually finds us. "On the edge" seems to be a condition of ontological proportions rather than an occasional hang out (damn it). Darkness seems to be presupossed in receiving light, barrenness for the promised child - it is just like that. If the edge is where the master comes then it seems like you and I are in the 'right' condition to receive this one who makes all things new. May you know the God who moves to the edges of our humanity, to the fringes of our powerlessness, to the margins of our being. May it be so for you and yours tonight.

I love you brother.

Merry Christmas.