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.

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