One of my favorite Christmas stories is of the Christmas Truce of 1914. I was thinking of it when I wrote this poem today.
to call a truce today,
to set down our weapons
in this escalating war of words,
pause,
and look beyond being “right”
to who we celebrate
on this holy day?
I can’t even stop myself,
so immersed am I
in trying not
to miss a thing,
adding my two cents
to the endless debate
we call social media.
In a country
crowded with churches,
we lose our way,
again and again,
letting fear lead
cloaked in self-righteous indignation,
our anger seeping out
in toxic streams of blame,
until we have turned
our faith
into a battlefield.
And still we ask
whose side is He on?
His words set aside,
we search instead for scripture
to confirm our biases,
to fuel our fear-led
hunger in our quest
to decide
who belongs,
and who does not.
The decision is not ours to make.
So maybe today
we return to the manger -
the rough wood,
the smell of the stable,
exhausted parents welcoming visitors,
all in awe of God’s Son,
come to earth
to show the Way.
Here lies the hope:
love born vulnerable,
power wrapped in mercy,
a child who shows us
above all else
how to listen, forgive,
and love like Him.
He is on the side of love.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2025-12-24 at 21:51
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A Christmas Truce
Wouldn’t it be wonderfulto call a truce today,
to set down our weapons
in this escalating war of words,
pause,
and look beyond being “right”
to who we celebrate
on this holy day?
I can’t even stop myself,
so immersed am I
in trying not
to miss a thing,
adding my two cents
to the endless debate
we call social media.
In a country
crowded with churches,
we lose our way,
again and again,
letting fear lead
cloaked in self-righteous indignation,
our anger seeping out
in toxic streams of blame,
until we have turned
our faith
into a battlefield.
And still we ask
whose side is He on?
His words set aside,
we search instead for scripture
to confirm our biases,
to fuel our fear-led
hunger in our quest
to decide
who belongs,
and who does not.
The decision is not ours to make.
So maybe today
we return to the manger -
the rough wood,
the smell of the stable,
exhausted parents welcoming visitors,
all in awe of God’s Son,
come to earth
to show the Way.
Here lies the hope:
love born vulnerable,
power wrapped in mercy,
a child who shows us
above all else
how to listen, forgive,
and love like Him.
He is on the side of love.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2025-12-24 at 21:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
