Incarnate
How can a human body hold all that is God?
Frail flesh and ribs wrapped around
the origin of life Himself
Did the chest cavity that held the lungs
that held the breath of God
not burst?
Did the weight of his Deity not
crumble his bones, sink his feet
deep into the earth,
buckle his joints?
A simple skeleton supporting,
simple skin encasing the soul
of the Savior
a simple heart,
pumping simple blood to the cells
of the Messiah.
This mystery, this Christ among us, with us,
in us,
this companion king somehow came,
His deity encoded DNA
not destroyed when infused with
His holiness;
His mother not killed
when the God-man
grew inside her womb;
A whole city not struck dead,
when God’s boy played outside.
How a human body housed the Christ,
How forgiveness cried
from human lungs,
how his body one day broke
not under the weight of his deity
but under that of humanity
so that we may know Him
who makes us like God.
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