As I stand and gaze beneath the tree
All the presents in common have something I see.
Beautifully and neatly wrapped they be.
But what of the gift of Christ the King?
For it is a gift for us to give to Him.
But how should it be wrapped – that is the thing?
Some wrap His gift in the traditions of men.
Some wrap it tightly in rituals so solemn,
Like too much tape applied too often.
Some lock it up in precious chests of gold,
Encrusted with Jewels and intricately engraved and scrolled,
Where it lays dying in the dark midst the dust and the mould.
And some dress it up in embroidered robes,
And build it palaces and ornate abodes,
As the gift gets lost amid the bricks and the folds.
But as I stand and survey the world I see
The gift of Christ is everlasting life, abundant and free.
But in what is it wrapped? It is wrapped in ... ME!
Copyright D.J. Ludlow 2009.
(From my SGM eBook anthology "Life, Death, and Something Else" that is freely downloadable from my Small GIFTS Ministry Download site below.
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I wrote the poem in 2009 but have only just included it here. I have more poems in my 3 anthologies (not to mention the anthologies I am still working on) than currently appear here. But now that my eBook anthologies (in simple PDF file format for speed of production and widest possible application and usage) are being made freely downloadable as part of my Small GIFTS Ministry (Google #smallgiftsministries for more) I thought I might share some of the individual poems here that I have not shared already.
The feedback from both of you is appreciated and equally interesting because the poem is not actually about Christmas gifts although they are what prompted the thoughts the poem explores. The poem is actually about the gift of the Holy Spirit and the sad things some people and churches do with it.
I see that you wrote this in 2009. You may have posted it earlier.
It is well understood that giftgiving was adopted by the Christians from pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice. If Jesus existed, it is unlikely that three kings came to his lowly bed with riches to bestow upon him. His entire life as written, perhaps, at least two generations after his death, and supposed rising from the dead, only accepted small gifts, like the washing of his feet and repasts like his last supper that were given to him freely by his congregation. He bore no other evidence of having received gifts except, apparently, miracle powers by his father, God.
A nice tradition with good intentions that should be practiced all year long. But God should not be required to make us do it during this time of year. We should do it really without God's requirement.
Ron