‘Home for Christmas’: A Poem by Martin Rizley

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Home for Christmas

Beneath the sinking skies I ride, a traveler on his way,                     .
Through drizzling mist and fading light until the end of day.
As skies grow dim and gray clouds droop and icy breezes blow,
Wrapped in the growing gloom, I sense pure joy within me grow!

How could the scene be otherwise? I’ve come from very far,
Adventuring on lonely roads, sealed snugly in my car,
Outbraving winter’s fog and gloom, at journey’s end to see
Bright candles glowing warmly in the windows—just for me!

Soon I will cross the threshold and will see the well-loved faces
Of dear ones who will greet me with kind words and warm embraces.
Soon I will hear the whistle of a kettle on the stove
And sip hot, steaming tea that’s spiced with cinnamon and clove.

Soon we will sit at table, and give thanks before we pitch in
To eat up all the vittles that come richly from the kitchen.
And after that, the time will come to gather round the tree
To pass out gifts and open them, as children shout with glee.

At last, the weary young’uns, tuckered out, will slip away
To their dark caves to hibernate until the coming day
And leave us ancient veterans to sit and reminisce
And speak of all those “good old days of yore” we dearly miss.

At some point, things will take a turn, and someone will embroil
Us all in lively discourse as we burn the midnight oil,
Relaxing in the living room beside a roaring fire—
Oh, what a festive family scene! What more could one desire?

But there is more to Christmas than what eye and ear can sense,
Much more than tongues can taste—a joy celestial and immense
That earth cannot contain, which made the angel choirs sing
Glad songs of praise to God for what an infant’s birth would bring.

For lo!  our race was lost, undone, and frozen fast in sin,
Plunged in the deepest darkness, stripped of hope, and dead within;
But God, by sending His own Son, made heaven blaze with light,
Rekindled hope in lifeless hearts and ended sin’s long night.

Next to this transcendental joy, no joy can be compared!
(Though surely, we give thanks to God for yuletide blessings shared
With friends and family year by year, each time we get together
To share in grub and gifts and gab, no matter what the weather.)

For food and friends and family fun, no matter how they warm us,
Are dwarfed in size before a love incomparably enormous,
As wide as all the world in scope, and deep beyond all measure,
Seen in the One whose birth gives hope—God’s priceless Christmas treasure.

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Martin Rizley grew up in Oklahoma and in Texas, and has served in pastoral ministry both in the United States and in Europe. He is currently serving as the pastor of a small evangelical church in the city of Málaga on the southern coast of Spain, where he lives with his wife and daughter.