What Child is This?

Sure, as much as we’d like to think we know — we don’t really know who these children are growing up around us.  We may have thought one would never amount to anything, and look at him now.  Another seemed to have an early golden touch, but somehow, lost his way.  We certainly can’t predict what will happen….well, some things we can predict.  We know that, by and large, if a child has to make his or her own way because we are absent, neglectful, abusive and self-absorbed — without the intervention of God Almighty…yeah…we have some idea of how that could turn out.

Whether we give this child everything or nothing, she is still in the hands of God.

So are we. The thing is — no matter how things turn out — God is watching us and we will be called into account for the “mean estate” so many children have to endure.  How unimaginative of us!  Poverty, the absence of loving adults, homelessness, hunger, low expectations, the refusal of power to invest in their potential….what mean, mean unimaginative estates.

We will be held accountable for the senseless spears that pierce their hopes and dreams…violent communities, unstructured homes, boundary-less and undisciplined lives, they way we sacrifice and crucify their childhoods on the altars of common gods.

Whatever child “this is” in your presence this season, haste to bring them a new and hopeful future.  Haste to be a real shepherd — go looking for “this child” to guard and keep watch over. Haste to be an Angel and sing a different tune on their behalf — sing justice and sing investment in their futures.

What child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary’s lap is sleeping,
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet
While shepherds watch are keeping?

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The baby, the son of Mary!

Why lies He in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.

Nails, spear shall pierce him through,
The Cross be borne for me, for you;
Hail, hail the Word Made Flesh,
The babe, the son of Mary!

So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh;
Come, peasant, king, to own Him!
The King of Kings salvation brings;
Let loving hearts enthrone Him!

Raise, raise the song on high!
The virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy! joy! for Christ is born,
The babe, the son of Mary!