It was a rocky road to Bethlehem!
The precious parchments of the patriarchs
had set the scene on history’s holy page.
The sacred signs were there. Messiah’s Day
would dawn when God’s own time had fully come.
A star proclaimed The Hour and angels sang
“Good News! The Peasant Prince is birthed in straw!”
It was a winding way near Nazareth!
A village youth at work among the shavings of
the shop where wooded things were hewn once paused
to stretch his arms as shafts of light etched out
His silhouette upon the farthest wall.
The shadowed shape traced not a carpenter
but victim, cast upon a cross of shame!
It was a pleasant path by Galilee!
The Rabbi from obscurity strode down
the dusty road beside that sea so prone
to trouble workers on the wave. He marched
into the mart where wondrous words would hold
the throngs enthralled and grasping for God’s news—
the gospel of a kingdom near at hand.
It was a craggy course, discipleship!
He called his own, as rabbis do, out from
the ordinary and bland—the fishing and
the taxing, too. He molded, melded them,
and minded them to down their nets, take up
their cross to follow Him. No turning back,
no wav’ring on the way ahead for them.
Lucille L. Turfrey, The War Cry