Where the Magi stood
Where the Magi stood, I stand before you today. When they came you were a baby in your mother's arms no longer — but a toddler on your mother's lap. You could sit up, you could stand up. You had begun to talk, to walk. The grownup man in me wants to guide you, teach you, shield you, take your hand.
The little boy deeper in wants to play with you, make faces to make you laugh. It's hard to think of you that way: 2 years old, with all that means. Maybe that's why they never picture you this way today. But someone carved you, sitting forth on Mary's knees, and I am grateful. For just as I see your image as it once was — when the wood was fresh and fragrant and the surface smooth and the paint intact — so I through that see you: The Word learning to speak, the Lord learning to walk. And every 2-year-old before and since, an image of the living God.
© 2014 Augsburg Fortress, Publishers