The Christmas Guests

The table was laid and the feast was prepared,

All was made ready, but the seats were still bare.

The fire burned brightly in my humble stone hearth,

Soon this home would be filled with laughter and mirth.

Though, of these festivities, I was the host,

The Master himself brought the guests that he chose.

Maybe many or few, from far or from near,

He invited the guests for Christmas each year.

I glanced at the clock as it struck out the hour,

I looked out the window at the fresh falling powder.

The snow fell like cotton, all fluffy and frayed,

Perhaps all the guests, by this storm, were delayed?

I looked again to the clock, beginning to fear,

When I heard a knock on the door, frightfully clear.

I was roused from my seat and my anxious worry,

I smiled and beamed as I moved in a hurry.

I opened the door and beheld the first guests,

Then my countenance fell, and a cry I repressed.

Two guests stood at my door with faces tear-stained,

Sorrow and Grief, these obtruders were named.

Dismal and downcast, oh this miserable pair,

Their presence on Christmas seemed horr’bly unfair.

I knew these two well, they had been here before,

I ushered them in, slowly shutting the door.

“Welcome,” I said, though I hated the notion,

Of greeting these two, whose tears could fill oceans.

For sobbing and wailing, tears perpetually flowed.

The melancholy pair never ceased with their woe.

I gave them scant welcome; it didn’t seem wrong,

They wouldn’t be, couldn’t be, staying for long.

For once the feast started and the Master arrived,

they wouldn’t have any more reasons to cry.

A second knock sounded, though faintly and quiet,

Barely sounding above the room’s tearful riot.

I opened the door on a sad, cheerless sight,

Pain was also a guest on this Christmas night.

I gazed on her twisted, worn, hunched over form,

Grimacing and wincing, she hobbled indoors.

Her face was contorted by spasms and aches,

As she shuffled to find a seat she could take.

I didn’t assist her, instead gave wide berth,

What place had this Pain in a house meant for mirth?

This was Christmas, a time for cheer and festivity,

For feasting, for lightness, for fun and activity,

For gath’ring, for comfort, for joy, and for merriment,

The presence of Pain here was simply an irritant.

No. She had no place here; she just couldn’t stay.

Surely the Master would send her away.

The knocker resounded a third time this night,

If the Master was here, he’d make all things right.

But on opening the door, my eyes were surprised

By the sight of another whom I recognized.

Dressed head to toe in robes, bloody and stained,

With a hood pulled down low, concealing his face,

This spectre on Christmas? The horrible sight!

I pushed hard on the door to shut out this fright.

My movement was stopped by the ghost I deplored.

His pale bony fingers were clasping the door.

“I was invited,” his voice hoarsely muttered,

As the wraith moved inside, I shivered and shuddered.

This iniquitous wretch, this unwelcome presence,

With his dirt and his grime and his awful putrescence,

To the darkest corner, this shadowy frame,

Hesitantly glided, the one they call Shame.

The moaning and groaning and woe from the three,

Doubled, no, tripled, as Shame made his entry.

In rising confusion, I questioned, I doubted.

Uncertainty grew, and anxiousness mounted.

The Master was good, but these guests were appalling,

Their presence on Christmas was horrid and galling.

How could the Master invite horrors like these?

Did he care about Christmas? Did he care about me?

For the fourth time, I heard a knock at the door,

Despairing, I kept my eyes to the floor.

What disagreeable guest would be next to arrive,

To a home where hope was no longer alive?

I opened the door on the cold, snowy storm,

And slowly looked up at a fatherly form.

What wonder, what awe, I could hardly perceive

The sight of the Master I’d been longing to see!

Here on my doorstep, he finally stood,

His whole presence beaming with mercy, with good.

His countenance shining with love, hope, and grace,

Forgiveness and kindness were etched on his face.

I smiled as he entered, filled full with delight,

Then remembered the other guests here on this night.

My countenance fell. I peevishly pouted.

“They’re ruining Christmas!” I petulantly shouted.

“I worked very hard to get everything right.

How can these be the guests you wanted this night?”

I frowned and I scowled and I let out a sigh.

The Master looked at me closely, then he replied,

“Oh, my friend, oh my child, why do you wonder?

These guests are my choosing. This isn’t a blunder.

I come bearing gifts, watch and see what I do,

For Sorrow and Grief, for Pain, Shame…and you.”

As he said this he moved toward Grief and toward Sorrow,

Taking their hands in his own, their tears finally slowed.

“Friends, I have known you, it’s time you know me,

I’m a man who knows Sorrow, who’s acquainted with Grief,

I have carried and borne you all these long years,

I have seen you and counted every one of your tears.

It is not time yet for your crying to cease,

But these I do give you: Comfort and peace.”

Then what happened next seems hard to describe,

For Sorrow and Grief did continue to cry,

But their tears seemed now precious, a sight to behold

As the Master kept count of each as it rolled.

The Master embraced them and cried with them now,

This pair needed comfort and he knew just how.

As they all softly wept, my heart was now moved,

To compassion and love for these heartbroken two.

Next the Master reached his strong arms out to Pain,

As he gently embraced her, he spoke out again:

“Though your heart is healed by the wounds that I bear,

Your affliction continues and so does your care.

Your malady causes you great suffering

And you mourn with no hope of ever recovering.

So this is my gift, what you need from me most:

First, I give you endurance, next I give hope.

“This is the hope that I give you tonight:

Someday I’ll return to make everything right.

Endure patiently, oh my child, my friend,

I will cause all anguish and suffering to end.”

As he spoke words of hope, a calmness pervaded,

The lines on her worn-out face slightly faded.

Pain’s aches were attended by gentle serenity

And a glowing, peaceful air of tranquility.

The Master now looked to the dark side of the room,

Where Shame was still hiding in shadow and gloom.

At his glance, Shame began to tremble and cower,

Then collapsed to the ground, quite overpowered.

As the Master bent over Shame’s prostrated form

A desperate cry escaped from the miserable worm,

“Oh leave me, don’t touch me, for that would be mercy,

My guilt is too much, I cannot look upon thee!

I have sinned, I am broken, my conscience is seared.

How dreadful my guilt, I shouldn’t be here!”

“Shame, you are here, by my invitation,

Despite your offenses, I offer salvation.

I offer you hope and lasting forgiveness,

By giving my life, it’s already accomplished.”

Shame spoke in low tones, anguished and strained,

“Oh no, goodly Master, my robes are too stained.”

Softly and quietly the Master arose,

And started unfastening his perfect clean robe.

“Here then, I give mine in exchange for your own.”

And the Master removed the robe he had worn.

Then I saw Shame look up for the first time that night,

His eyes filled with wonder, yet mingled with fright.

With hesitant fingers he removed his old robe,

And he knelt down on the floor, cold and exposed.

Gently and kindly, the Master then dressed him,

Lifted him up, kissed him, and blessed him:

“This robe of my righteousness covers your sin,

Your guilt is erased and your sins are forgiven.

I have redeemed you, I have paid all your debt,

No longer have you to bear sin or regret.

Do you believe me, and can you now see

How much that I love and care for thee?”

“My Master, my Lord,” Shame said, “I believe.

The weight of my sin you alone have relieved.”

“Then I have another gift for you Shame:

No longer will you bear that awful name.

Your life is transformed, for you are redeemed.

I call you Rejoicing,” the good Master beamed.

And as shame disappeared, Rejoicing remained,

Dressed in the Master’s robe, gloriously unstained.

“Master!” I cried, as I fell to his feet,

“I doubted your goodness, but now I believe,

Grief, Sorrow, and Shame, and Pain, I disdained,

But these are the guests you sent and ordained.

You sent them this night for their good and mine,

To show us your goodness, and love most divine.”

The Master reached down and my aching heart lifted,

“I have one more gift that still needs to be gifted.”

“Your sad heart is aching, as mine has done, too,

The last gift that I give is to be with you.

I give you my presence, now and forever,

I will always be with you. You are my treasure.

I sometimes send storms and sometimes send calm,

But I will be near you whatever may come.

Abide in my love is what you have to do;

Rest in me, trust in me, as I care for you.

Now friends gather near. It is time for the feast!”

The Master’s kind voice beckoned us to our seats.

Here was not the ebullience that I had expected,

But rather was hope, joy, and love perfected.

For seated at table, restored and redeemed,

Rejoicing now dined with Sorrow, Pain, and Grief,

Brought here by the Master, so good and so right,

We feasted together that long Christmas night.