Gift better than Himself God doth not know,
Gift better than God no man can see;
This gift doth here the giver given bestow
Gift to this gift let each receiver be;
God is my gift, Himself He freely gave me,
God’s gift am I, and none but God shall have me.”
― Robert Southwell
(also known as Saint Robert Southwell–a martyred English Catholic Jesuit, known for being a clandestine missionary in Post Reformation England)
A pretty little box, with a simple white bow, sits for no one in particular.
There is no sign of the one who placed it on the counter. There is no specific occasion in which one should or would leave such a gift.
Seeing such a box arouses curiosity,
It begs to be unwrapped,
Just seeing such a box evokes excitement,
How does one wrap up insatiable Love?
How does one offer Light to the darkness?
How does one give Hope to the hopeless?
The gift of Life is given by the taking of a life.
The gift of Redemption is bought with 30 pieces of silver.
There are no pretty boxes or pretty bows on Golgotha
No sense of excited expectancy.
The gift evokes suspicion,
When did forgiveness cost so much?
When did the accepting of a gift cause embarrassment?
When did refusing a gift become commonplace
And yet the season of gift giving is once agin close at hand
With too much spent on pretty boxes and pretty bows.
Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold fit for a king
while a mere babe offers the greatest gift of all