It Started in a Stable
It’s a story,
Not a fable,
Of a Son who laid aside his glory
And left his Father’s table
And stepped into a world unstable,
To save the weak, the powerless, the unable,
To make the powers crumble,
The wise to stumble,
But beautify the humble.
It’s the story of a Saviour able
To still the storms and make the mountains tumble,
Yet who comes to heal and save the lost,
The marginal and tempest-tossed,
Whatever the cost,
And invite us to his table.
It’s the story of a man who broke the curse of Babel,
Who welcomed all mankind, regardless of label,
Whose blood speaks better than the blood of Abel,
Who resurrects creation from the grave back to the cradle,
So all can see that God is able,
The all-wise author of the story,
The King of glory.
And it started
In a stable.
[It may not have been a stable, of course, but you get the idea.]