From Humble Birth to Grand Display

Beneath the glow of festive lights,
We celebrate these sacred nights.
With grandeur bright and joy so wide,
In bustling streets, the world takes pride.

But pause, and think of long ago,
When heaven's King was born below.
No glittering halls, no royal feast,
Only hardship marked the Prince of Peace.

A journey long, on weary feet,
Through dust and cold, no rest to meet.
Mary bore the weight of grace,
Seeking shelter in a humble place.

No cradle soft, no silken bed,
But a manger held His holy head.
Among the hay, in shadows dim,
Angels sang of the gift in Him.

The night was cold, the air was still,
Yet heaven's promise would fulfill.
Shepherds came with awe and fear,
While wise men traveled far to cheer.

Contrast now the scenes we see,
The lavish gifts beneath the tree.
The feasts we share, the songs we sing,
The glittering joy this season brings.

But in that stable, bare and small,
Was born the Savior of us all.
No wealth, no crown, no golden throne,
Yet through His love, our hearts are known.

So as we revel in holiday cheer,
Let us remember the cost so dear.
The humble birth, the struggle faced,
To bring salvation, love, and grace.

For Christmas isn't just display,
It's love born low to light the way.
In every star, in every song,
His humble story still belongs.

This poem was a finalist in the December 2024 poetry contest