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Jym Shorts - Jym Shorts - October 3, 2019

Jym Shorts - October 3, 2019

Posted by Jym Gregory on

I am currently in the process of writing the Advent devotional for 2019, and so, even though it is only the early fall, my mind is often on the events surrounding December, the time of year we celebrate the incarnation of God’s Son and his first advent (“arrival”) into our world.  This year our Advent series will focus on the songs/poems/exultations that surrounded the Son’s entrance into human history as the God/Man.  I have entitled the series “Great Expectations: The Songs of Advent.”  My study has led me to some of my favorite poems, both biblical and extra-biblical, that relate to the incarnation.  Since my mind is heavy with these thoughts lately, I’ve decided to share some of them with you for the next few weeks.


Poetry is a gift from God.  I think, if it does not sound too exaggerated, that it is in some degree the language of heaven.  Paul tells us that in his vision (or trip) to the “third heaven” where God dwells, he heard things that were inexpressible - which no one is permitted to tell (2 Cor. 12:1-5).  So much of God’s revelation of himself to us in the Scriptures are written poetically, almost musically.  So much of the little that we know of what takes place in the presence of God is poetic and musical.  Creation itself, it appears, was accompanied by poetry and music (Genesis 1; Job 38). In fact, God’s discourse with Job about the creation act is set to a poetic meter.


So, for the next few weeks I will share with you some of my favorite poems that deal specifically with the incarnation and work of Jesus Christ. I hope you will enjoy reading them (you’ll get more in the devotional in December for those who like to utilize it).


The Maker of the Universe (by F.W. Pitt)


The Maker of the Universe

As Man for man was made a curse

The claims to law which he had made

Unto the uttermost, he paid


His holy fingers made the bough

Which grew the thorns which crowned his brow

The nails that pierced his hands were mined

In secret places, he designed


He made the forest whence there sprung

The tree on which his body hung

He died upon a cross of wood

But made the hill on which it stood


The sky that darkened o’er his head

By him above the earth was spread

The sun that hid from him its face

By his decree was poised in space


The spear that spilled his precious blood

Was tempered in the fires of God

The grave in which his form was laid

Was hewn in rock his hand had made


The throne on which he now appears

Was his from everlasting years

But a new glory crowns his brow

And every knee to him shall bow


The Maker of the Universe


Grace and peace,
Pastor Jym



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