Expectations, cards, and gifts,
Wreaths hung upon the door–
Is this what Christmas really means?
Could there be something more?
Fancy cookies, cakes, and breads,
Snow-covered brooks and trees–
Is this what Christmas is about?
What does it mean to me?
What does it mean that Jesus came–
That God became a man?
What does it mean for me, today,
In living where I am?
What would it mean if he had stayed
in heaven–had not come?
If God had chosen to desert
this planet–he was done?
Was through, was finished, did not care,
just left us on our own?
I would not have the strength, the life
To write this simple poem.
I would not have a word to speak
of peace, of hope, of joy–
For I had wondered far from God,
By Satan was employed.
Yes, I had chosen my own way–
Wrapped myself in pride;
But I could not escape my pain–
That’s why my Savior died.
That’s why He came; He took on flesh;
He lived upon this earth.
Because He died and lives for me,
I celebrate His birth.