He hangs from a cross,
itself hanging on a nail
on the wall by my desk.
This hand-carved olive wood
crucifix is
souvenir, decoration,
sermon, icon.

There are days, maybe weeks
when it blends
into the décor.
Or rather, I turn my gaze
to other objects.
Then it—he!—hangs
and waits.

Today it spoke to me.
Not in words,
but in a voiceless
tender tap on my shoulder.
“Look and see.”

I looked and then I saw.
A detail carved there
two dozen years ago
lay waiting for this moment,
for my eyes to see.

Beneath his protruding ribs,
below his bowed head,
the marks of human birth.
Not the stripling of wood grain
or the vagaries of skin,
but the navel of the Christ.

Here is—eternally—the mark
of the Incarnation.
God with us, Immanuel,
Son of God and Son of Man
and Son of Mary,

Brother in the flesh,
in our flesh.

Here on my wall
is the icon
proclaiming the Good News,
the same Evangel proclaimed
by Paul and Peter
and all the others
since that day.

“Christ emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.

“And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient
to the point of death—
even death on a cross.”

Annunciation, Nativity,
Crucifixion, Resurrection.

Navel and nails.
His are plain
for me to see.
He hangs in silent witness.

If I bow my head to look,
if I place my finger
in the scarred recess,
I see, I know
the truth of my birth,
my own birth,
my own most human birth.

I share the mark of
Christ’s birth
with him, with you.

Then I raise my hand
and open the palm.
No scar is visible,
no nail yet protrudes.

But then my life is not completed.
My end of days has not yet come.

In these times of silence
I wait, I watch, I listen
—a personal, internal
season of preparation,
an Advent—
for the voiced, his voice:
“Come, follow me.”

Would you wait with me?
We can wait together,
give one another courage.

I do not wait alone.
We wait together—
you and I—
and all who bear
the navel mark.
We wait for our nails.

And in the end—the End—
the ending implied
by navel
and hammered home by nails
will give way to the Voice,
saying,
“Now!”

This Word brings
speech from silence,
life out of death,
victory from defeat:
“At the name of Jesus
every knee should bend
in heaven and on earth
and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord
to the glory of God the Father.”

Navel.
Nails.
Now!

December 17, 2008
Denton, Nebraska