‘To see the world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower.' Blake

We can’t measure the beauty of a wild flower and yet we have an intrinsic feel as to it’s worth . So much of our world lays in the acceptance of the truth of a thing which in reality we can’t physically see measure or quantify and yet the most meaningful and real things in our life: love, sorrow, joy inhabit this realm. Take ‘time ‘ fore instance the most used noun in the English language. We know it’s not fixed changing relative to the position and speed of the observer but we know that empirically time for us exists . The sheer weight of reason gives it reality. For me it’s strangely oxymoronic that we seek scientific proof for everything even in the certain knowledge that the most ‘ real ‘ and ‘ certain’ things in our life are metaphysical.

The birth of Christ is of course the subject of endless debate between Christian theologians and unbelievers. Are the stories about the wisemen and shepherds based on fact ? was Christ born in Bethlehem ? Could there really have been a virgin birth? Buts let’s consider for a moment what’s not in doubt and step back from the trees to see the miraculous wood laid out in plain sight.

A child is born into extreme poverty in a dusty minor backwater of the Roman empire to a carpenter and his wife. He became a wandering desert preacher who never left the levant. His message was delivered orally to those who could hear him teach at a time when to send a message from one end of the Roman Empire to the other took over 90 days of travel. He was betrayed by his own people and crucified as a common criminal by the local Roman governor. It was over forty years before the first written account of his life was put to paper including incredulous accounts of miracles and resurrection. Two thousand years later 2.18 billion people worship him as the son of God for them the miraculous has become reality. History teaches us one huge lesson that time destroys everything but the deepest truths and that wisdom is always proven by her children.

For me there is only one logical possible conclusion that two thousand years ago in Bethlehem: The everlasting light

The hopes and fears of all the years Were met in thee to-night’