What if Jesus was born a girl-child?

What if the child 
announced by the angel,
promised to a virgin mother,
to be named by a dutiful father,
surprised everyone on her birthday?

Would Joseph still have named her Jesus?
or some other name
more befitting a girl-child.
What is "God-with-us," in the feminine?

Surely she would have 
nursed and cried and toddled, just as a boy-child would.
walked, fallen and walked again, just as a boy-child would.
run and played, though maybe not so loudly, as a boy-child would.
grown in stature and in strength, perhaps even more quickly than a boy-child would.

Would she have gained entrance to the Synagogue for teaching and for learning?
Would she have been mentored and apprenticed in a trade?
Would she have been allowed to forgo marriage to follow her true love calling?

If so, then...
Would she have been baptized by John at the Jordan?
And when she rose out of the water, would the dove descend on her and the voice of heaven say, 
"This is my daughter, whom I love; with her I am well pleased."

Would she then travel the countryside teaching and preaching?
Would those who heard then listen to her, accept her, learn from her?
-- not such a threat to authorities, this young woman,
perhaps they consider her words carefully,
acknowledge her wisdom and take up her cause.

Following after her, they--
observing how she treated others,
seeing the love in her eyes
and the smile she gave to each one
the hope each one departed, carrying.

They might follow her in the way true followers do.
Unafraid and unyielding, 
listening for the voice she listened to
honoring the God she gave honor to
growing the courage to speak to the Father she spoke to,
As she did, they came to do.

Would they scorn her, dismiss her, or run her out of town?
Certainly not. 
Daughter of God, we welcome such as these,
wish we all could be such as she.

Would they would imprison her, stone her, or crucify her?
Not a chance.
Who would suspect that God would arrive 
in such a meek, lowly female form?

Who indeed?

What if Jesus had been born a girl-child?
Anything is possible with God.

Palm Shreds

Here in Florida — the land of palm branches a-plenty — one can actually find them scattered about to wave for Palm Sunday. Even if it’s only one palm frond you find in your backyard and you wave it as a personal worship celebration, and incidentally, for the amusement of your two young pups.

It is so much fun to watch their delight as you wave it to and fro. “Hosanna,” you say. “Hosanna.” You say this quietly, hoping the neighbors are not bothered by your odd behavior. But wave it you do and wave it some more as you see how delighted your pups are to play with it. Like kittens with a ball of string, Brittany Buddy and Retriever Lily, jump and frolic and lunge for the fronds. Finally, you give in and toss it in the air for them to catch. They each grab an end and tug and tussle, happily pulling it from each other. What fun! A new toy!

Ah, but then Lily gets a strong grip; she grabs and runs. Buddy gives chase. Lily spins, Buddy misses. Buddy grabs, Lily latches on and tugs it away again. Buddy gets frustrated and growls at Lily. She romps away to sit with her acquisition and rip, rip, rip the fronds. Buddy snarls and bites at her back. Not so playful anymore. Lily protects and defends what’s left. The palm branch is now in shreds.

On any other day, these two are inseparable. Where one goes the other follows. If one leaves, the other whines in protest. They share a common water bowl. They will eat from the same food bowl without complaint. They take turns when snacks are offered, never denying the other his due. And yet… when there is one treasured prize, the mild manner is left behind.

This is mine. Not yours. Because this is mine, it cannot be yours.

Somehow, this seems an apt and unfortunate metaphor for what can be divisive and ugly interactions between Christians in our day. As if there weren’t enough palm fronds to go around. As if Jesus were a limited or scarce commodity. As if my claim on Him meant you couldn’t have Him.

Nope. Today’s palm branches signify the welcome of a humble king and invite a willingness to follow. Wherever He leads us. No one said that Christ-following would be easy, not the least of all Jesus who rode into Jerusalem on the colt of a donkey, knowing for certain what lay ahead. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (Matthew 21:9)

So soon they would ring out, “Crucify him!” (John 19:15)

As we enter into this Holiest of weeks and follow Christ through the most harrowing of circumstances, let us give grateful thanks for His life, His ministry, and the way He made for us to follow. A way that promises abundant life with plenty to share.

Let’s not fight over who gets to wave the palm branch.

Holy Crap!

“You don’t actually believe all that crap, do you?”

There is a good bit of historical record from the time of Jesus. 
Archaeological.
Temples. Cities. Edifices.

But unlike the way those today would
proclaim their King-dem,
the life Jesus led
would not be signaled in artifact or chiseled into stone. 

The life Jesus lived is etched
in all of time and for all time. 
It lasts as we last to tell it.
It's reborn in us each Christmas.
Rediscovered with each birth of new life -- in us --
And renewed with each loving act.

Holy crap! What was that?
I didn't know I had it in me.