An Advent Poem
By Brian Mattson
It was in a garden that the lie began
“You shall be a god, though you are a man.”
In Adam and Eve we find a rotten root —
They went astray when they ate the fruit.
Like the Father of lies they sought the throne
Wanting not God’s, but their glory shown.
To a Divine race they sought to give birth
Their will be done in heaven, as it is on earth.
So the Children of Men continued this boast
In the Plains of Shinar they gathered a host.
A Tower they built to establish their Name
Shouting to heaven of their power and fame.
Through long ages the same note would ring
From the mouths of Emperors, Princes, and Kings.
“We are gods!” They said with their lavish display
In their monuments of gold with feet of clay.
Philosophers claimed again and again
That we all have the spark, buried within.
Our Reason can leave us without any doubt
There’s no need to turn from within to without.
Monks of the East alter this quest
In the path of the Buddha they promise us rest.
Striving and seeking will keep you afar
For why strive to be gods when you already are?
Nietzsche proclaimed that “God is dead!”
But the epitaph hardly filled him with dread.
For Deicide leaves a throne to fill
And it can be man’s, by the power of will.
We fools have thought it within our might
To rise to the heights and ascend to the light.
That man should be god is always our plan
But never that God would become a man.
Every Christmas Day the lie is exposed
We are far weaker than we ever supposed.
Hear! Oh hear now the depths of our plight
That only our Maker could make it right.
Emmanuel: God With Us.