“How big is my God?” I often have pondered.
In childlike faith with childhood wonder.
As high as the mountains and dense as the trees,
As broad as the heavens, as deep as the seas.
All-knowing, all-present, almighty he reigns.
No beginning nor end, God always has been.
Yet, something seems missing in all of this truth.
For God seems impersonal and so far removed.
His grandeur, his power, his greatness, and all
Seems so overwhelming, and I feel so small.
I need something more relevant, more intimate, more true
Than a God who is distant and hasn’t a clue.
And then I’m reminded of a baby in cloths
Wrapped up like a gift and placed in a trough.
When shepherds stood speechless and Joseph the same,
Messiah the King, born in Bethlehem!
A city so humble and lacking of worth
Became the hometown of the Messiah’s birth.
Angels proclaimed to the world great peace,
And all of creation fell to her knees
And worshiped an infant so fragile and small,
Perfection incarnate to save us all.
Great joy and glad tidings to everyone tell.
Of God in the flesh, Immanuel.
The question once pondered now brought to the light,
The answer revealed in that first Christmas night.
“How big is my God?” A few pounds, a few ounces
As Heaven rejoices and my heart dances.
No longer afraid of eternal danger,
My soul lies safe, like a babe in a manger.
And to this child I owe my soul’s rest
The God of Creation is God in the flesh.