Do you hear what I hear, ringing through the sky? A song, a song ringing through the trees, with a voice as big as the sea.
It is the song of hope resounding, hope wrapped in wonder—the immensity of Divinity alighting to the earth, to our hearts. It haunts and proclaims in whispers a goodness not unlike pure light.
It carries weight, this light of hope, and bears down upon the conscience of the world, drawing hearts unto itself. The invasion of such a glory, stretching the finite into a working kingdom of light; shards splintering into our everyday.
Do you hear what I hear, ringing through the sky? It fills up the firmament, pressing out the air with holiness, so much so that our vision tears beholding the ranging stars. How they glimmer to the sound, to the song, to the ringing.
I am so aware of you, O God, as I crunch the frozen tufts beneath my feet. Each step echoes in the great hall of your kingdom—a kingdom not of this world, yet throughout its very foundations and structures. I inhale and tremble, for you are my breath. I gaze above and quake, for the heavens drip you into my mind’s eye.
I throw up my arms in surrender, for fear of my life! Have I not beheld the glory of the Lord? Has he not unveiled himself before me? Woe is me! I am utterly undone and forever damned!
But what is this I find, a child with a sword, an infant dipped in blood, the horses of heaven delivering him from the very depths of the sanctus tremendum?
Who is this I find, a ragged man, healer and friend of the poor?
Who is this I find, the vagabond wanderer of heaven, crying for me in a garden?
Who is this I find, a friend and confidant, the interrupter of my death sentence?
Who is this I find, the slaughtered lamb, the one screaming for me though iron and wood invade his flesh?
Do you know what I know? A child, a child shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold. Let us bring him all of ourselves.
Timothy Willard loves to sit with his wife by the bonfire and make up stories about Tom the Backyard-Badger for his three lovely daughters. When he's not carving up the Appalachian Mountains on his Salsa El Mariachi, you can find him busy writing a book, collaborating on a book, or reading a book written by someone dead and gone. Timothy studied beauty in the works of C.S. Lewis under theologian Alister McGrath. The author of five books, including Veneer: Living Deeply in a Surface Society (Zondervan), Timothy is currently finishing The Life-Changing Adventure of Chasing Beauty (Eerdmans, 2019), preparing his doctoral thesis for publication, and trying to find a publisher for his first novel The Tempest and the Bloom. He lives somewhere in the south Charlotte woods.