God of the Small Things

by Hilary Horn

By Ana Lisa de Jong

My God is the God of small things.

Seeds.
Newborn babies.

Nutshells that contain multiple truths
in humble small containers.

My God is the God of small beginnings.

Like breathing
or opening eyelids.

If we but move today
we can accomplish what he asks.

God my God of swaddled babes
that fumble for the breast

 

He teaches us the worth of
lying still in trust.

 

My God is the God of humble things.

Caves.
Beds of straw.

Lives that don’t amount to much
if judged upon their origins.

My God, is the God of silent things.

Wombs.
Passages in the dark.

Quiet incubators, within which cells divide
and muscles stretch towards the light.

God my God of birth pangs
and pain that finds release

He teaches us that the dark
often precedes new life.

My God is the god of honed things

Parred down.
Simplified.

A carpenter sanding back the wood
to reveal the grain beneath.

My God, is the God of beloved things.

Neglected.
Abandoned.

Rescued for nothing they have done,
but because of a plan of redemption.

God, my God of Christmas coming
somehow the wonder of Advent

is knowing we need do nothing
but let new life be birthed in us.

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5 comments

jennethsuzanne December 20, 2017 - 4:12 am

Ah, balm to the soul thank you Lisa. Faith heals through your words. A very blessed Christmas dear friend.

livingtreepoetry December 21, 2017 - 12:25 pm

Thank you so much my friend. May your Christmas be filled with the good news that never stops giving.

galfamily4 December 20, 2017 - 11:23 am

Hello fellow kiwi, thank you for your big small words, blessings for this coming Christmas , looks like it will continue being hot! Between the biggness of the Season My eyes May rest On The God Of Small.

livingtreepoetry December 21, 2017 - 12:28 pm

Thank you so much for your comments. Lovely to hear from a fellow Kiwi! Christ wrap around you in his small but large encompassing love this Christmas.

The God of Small Things | Theology for ordinary people. January 13, 2020 - 4:17 pm

[…] going to close with a poem by Ana Lisa de Jon that says this better than I […]

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