Christmas Story 3

Christmas Story 1996

I walked the crooked highway, I’d walked it a thousand times.
When I was young my father had sheep and I’d watch them for him at night.
Leading sheep along the highway, I knew the road by heart,
Every tree and gully, every bend and rock.

As I grew I got restless and I left for a life on the sea.
This was my first trip back to Jerusalem; I came for the Passover feast.

The road stretched out before me, only a few more miles, and I’d be to Golgotha
a hill overlooking the city walls.
As I arrived at the hill a crowd was gathered around
Some were laughing, some were weeping, there were beams coming out of the ground!

“A crucifixion,” I said to myself I turned my head and I quickened my pace.
Then, I saw an older lady with a very familiar face.

I knew her face.

Memories flowed to my sea-washed mind of years and years ago.
Tending sheep I saw a star and a baby this woman had borne.
Her face was worn and wrinkled; yet the same look gleamed from her eyes.
I turned and saw her baby hanging on a cross, barely alive.

What had happened in those years of my wandering?
What had he been through—the child for whom the angels sing?

Someone help him! I knew he’d done no wrong.
His gaze moved to his mother, “Woman, behold thy son.”
Minutes turned into hours, his face twisted in incredible pain.
The sky darkened the earth shook as if to hide her shame.

The man cried, “Father, why has thou forsaken me?”
Some thought he called for Elias (Elijah), but that didn’t seem right to me.

Unbelievably, peace came to his blood-drenched brow.
“To Thy hands I commend my spirit, it is finished!” He cried aloud.

I walked the crooked highway, I’d walked it a thousand times.
My mind was on that long ago night when angels came to my fold

saying, “unto you is born this day a Savior which is Christ the Lord.”