IMAGINE

 

Imagine worshipping a cooing one moment, whimpering the next, born to save us, sweet baby God, lying in a trough filled with scratchy straw, needing a diaper change

 

Imagine worshipping a stone-kicking, frog-in-pocket, sticky-fingered, tousle-haired God, gleefully splish-splashing through mud-puddles along a rocky Nazareth road

 

Imagine worshipping a nose-in-the-Scroll, confident little boy-God, teaching in the Temple, confounding elders with astonishing Truths, as His parents search for Him

 

Imagine worshipping a rugged, long-haired, son-of-a-carpenter adolescent God, as He learns (ironically) to skillfully select woods and deftly wield a hammer and nails

 

Imagine worshipping a gregarious, life-of-the-party, wedding-guest God, Who miraculously turns stone jars of purification water into jars of finest wine at Cana

 

Imagine worshipping a child embracing, woe pronouncing, multitude feeding, leper cleansing God, Who walks upon water, instructs the wind and even raises the dead

 

Imagine worshipping a bread-breaking, wine-offering, foot-washing God, Who soon to be betrayed, beseeches His Heavenly Father, and sweats blood in an olive garden

 

Imagine worshipping a 30-something, blood-splattered, fist-struck, scourged and spat-upon God, laboriously lugging a cumbersome crossbeam to His own execution

 

Imagine worshipping a thorn-crowned, sword-pierced, crucified-with-common-criminals sacrificial Lamb of God, as He dies sinless for the sin of the world

 

Imagine worshipping a resurrected three-days-after-burial God, Who appears ALIVE! Yes, ALIVE! in His own burial garden, in locked rooms and to strangers along the road

 

Imagine worshipping this crucified, resurrected, gloriously ascending-in-the-clouds, victorious Son of God, Who says, "Go into the world and tell them." Tell them…

 

He did it for them

 

Imagine

 

 

Maude Carolan