The Man Like The Sun

Introduction:
There were days of darkness, a silence from The LORD
In the days before the king, there was a famine of His Word
And then God spoke, and He brought light,
	And on dry land it did appear:
The earth received a man of might,
	Relieved that the promise of God was near.
This story was given to a star that was born
	In the image of a larger sun
And purpose was written for the babe that was formed,
	More precious in light of the Holy One.

Part Two:   

And now an opportunity for strings and keys
For the Story is a noble Child found with the honor of a king.

The days were long and the land not at rest,
A people in dire need of God’s faithfulness.
Then darkness led them into enemy hands
And darkness became their own best laid plans;
Forty years before the strong-man, four hundred before the King…
The great miracle coming is the light of the story God brings.

The Story hovered over the chaos
Waiting for God to speak to the night;
The people languished in the darkness,
In need of One to lift up their eyes;
He spread His wings over the country,
	The Face of the promised land,
Waiting for God to speak the blessing
	For the children like stars and sand.

What love it is that speaks the Light
And perfect the lips that end the night!
Amazing is the Mind that made our own,
And generous the words that drift to the earth
	like snow;
Powerful is the One who loved us first
And great the source of our hearts’ home hearth;
What a gift that He speaks, what a grace to be heard,
What glory in the smile that ends the night with a Word;
How beautiful the heights that dwell with Him there,
And blessed every valley beneath His all-knowing stare;
How excellent the thoughts that designed the dawn sky,
And tender the warm Hands that created mankind;
In Him is life, and by Him is good made for the living,
His joy is the truth and His love meant for giving;
He is a wonder, worthy of the sky’s nightly applause,
And blessed is the nation that awaits a word from our God!

The stones and sand waited with baited breath
To see if Heaven would use them, to bless the blessed;
For the night was dark and the days were wild
And God had decided to call forth a child.
To the world, He’d give and refine him, more precious than gold;
To the blind, He’d give a son from the true treasure trove:
Graced by His Spirit and given His Story’s face,
To be recognized by the Word placed in a baby’s embrace;
To be announced by Heaven and hand-crafted for faith,
Driven by love and given a wonderful name;
A mystery’s minister, a riddle’s repose,
A living light to reveal the miracle God chose
Though all like sheep have gone astray
Lost in a pit and turned our faces away,
That mercy would triumph over judgment dues,
That the Hand that made us would save us, too.

And then it was time - a time made to remember
God spoke His gift into the night and He wrapped it in splendor;
Heaven opened its gates and an Angel stepped forth,
The sky parted wide to prepare the way of The Lord:
A Messenger to rain God’s Word over the earth,
A Man to give more than this world deserves.

The Angel marched out of Heaven in a stoic parade
His Face like a star and holding the promise God made;
The decree wrapped in fine linen, in robes flowing white
Cradled safe in the arms of the Angel of Light.

“I remember you,” said the Lion, “a mere babe written down.
A message from Heaven of the most noble sound;
I carried you swiftly with two hands holding tight,
In search of your mother as we walked out of the night.”

The Angel, the Man, landed with the gift of The LORD,
In His arms the designs of the child to be born;
The promise already spoken, the words already given
Already a brave little soul, as his frame was not hidden
From the Almighty One who does wondrous works,
From the love of his God who would weave him in the darkness of the earth.

The air was cool and the sky was blush,
The dust of the earth quickened as by a lightning’s touch;
Who would contend with the Angel, with His face set like flint
As He traveled the road drawn by Heaven’s almighty pen?
By His word, the oceans give up their tossing rolls
And by His command they give passage to sea-weary souls;
At His rebuke, rivers are made into desert lands
Water flees and fish die in the dry, thirsty sand.
At His word, the sky gives out the guiding stars
And by His command they provide for the traveler from afar;
At His rebuke, the sky is shed like a garment thrown
Wind and rain fall like axes,
	And hail pummels like stones.
As the  morning sky reveled in its violets and reds,
A blanket of frost lifted and the night shadows fled,
The wind delighted in the presence of this Warrior in white
Ancient trees caught their breath at such a rare, awesome sight;
With two feet lined by Heaven and His destination assured,
The Angel marched to the promised land to deliver God’s word.

He saw her in time, the barren woman in red
Said to lead the masses to the one House of Bread;
Destined to walk through the waters without being churned;
Chosen to walk through the flames only not to be burned;
She had eyes but couldn’t see her robes were in need of a wash
And her arms were long from long enough to redeem all that she’d lost...
Yet the Angel held a word for the weary, 
     and one to make wise
Good news spoken dearly,
	A revelation of life:
“I was to comfort the woman,” said Samson’s noble Lord,
“Comfort, comfort, for her savior was to be born.”

The poor woman was startled to see the Man of the Ages
Carrying a bundle of white on a road made of pages,
The wind about His broad shoulders moved from the east to the west
The towering, armed Warrior with the sun emblazoned on His chest.
She fell to the ground and she covered her head,
Cried aloud and shuddered in her garments of red.

The Angel of the LORD soon appeared at her side
Brimming with compassion for the woman who cried;
“Do not be afraid,” He commanded with a glint in His eye,
“Shake yourself from the dust, My child, and arise.”
She released a long breath and looked up from the dirt
She stared at the Angel as He towered over the earth;
Carefully, she unfolded herself off of the dry ground
Aware in His holy presence that her body was dusty and brown.

He lifted His arms, and from the white folds He solemnly quoted,
“Unto you comes a child, and from the womb dearly devoted-
Indeed now, you are barren, but you shall conceive.
Do not drink wine, nor will you eat anything unclean.
Please be careful to mind these words, remember all that I’ve said…
And never let a razor touch the hair of your child’s Nazirite head.
Your son will deliver Israel from the Philistines, their dark enemy, 
He will begin to deliver a people in a great victory.” 
He then extended His hands and gave her the linen,
She cradled the scroll, amazed her body was no longer beyond children.
In His presence, she found the cure for every half-hearted:
A revelation of God, and His mercy was just getting started.

She looked into the linen and saw the scroll written in white
And wondered at the Hand who authored this little man of might;
Startled, she glimpsed into a mystery bestowed upon her little boy,
That he would die wearing the burdens he was born to destroy.

She lifted her head to ask Him, hoping she had read it wrong,
“What is this child that You’ve brought me?” but the Angel had gone.
Having delivered The Message in a shadow-like rhyme,
Having announced a little star in The King’s Constellation in time,
The Angel had departed.  But not knowing He would return,
Her soul was pierced like a knife over what she had just learned.

And so she ran to her husband, straight to her home’s Man of Rest,
Picked up her skirt and fled with new treasure held tight at her chest;
He saw her from afar and he was alarmed by her haste,
And the Man of Rest ran toward his woman, searching for clues on her face.
He met her in the fields and he held her as she cried tears of relief
He steadied himself, knowing that when she could breathe she would speak.
He’d noticed the fine linen trailing behind her as she’d fled,
It now rested in billows between them, spotted by tender tears shed.

When her back had stopped shaking and her breathing had deepened, 
When her shoulders had squared and her balance remade even,
She told her husband of the Angel on the road made of words
The Man of Rest listened to the story she’d learned
“And in His light, I saw myself - I have been evil, it’s true!
Yet a son’s vows are spoken, and I am to follow them, too!”

Her arms draped by fine linen, her arms cradled the scroll,
And that which was barren became a new mother to behold.
The Man of Rest stared into the woman who had searched for his own hand,
A simple woman entrusted with mysterious plans.
She’d been found alone, and so he offered up a silent prayer to the Lord:
“Please, send Him again to teach us both about the child to be born.”

And God listened to her husband, He heard the Man of Rest,
Suddenly, the Messenger was strolling toward them, like a walking treasure chest;
A holy vessel filled with Heaven’s blessing, Heaven’s honor, glory, and might;
A Commander armed with the mystery of perfection: God’s incomparable Angel of Light.

The sun shimmered over its creator, its namesake, joy, and pride
To pay homage to the Name celebrated outside of the finite halls of time;
For this Man’s word is life, and lives on straight and true as an everlasting right:
Yes, they call it like the Son that rises, 
     and it rose only once to bring an end to every night.

The woman and the Man of Rest turned to face the mystery One;
The earth sighed beneath His golden feet, 
And from His armor blazed a golden sun.

He walked on the path made of God’s written word,
He strolled ‘cross the pages,
	The leaves whole and undisturbed.

In the presence of the brightest member of Heaven brought near:
“Behold,” said the woman, “the Man who came to me has appeared!
I have so many questions, but what is allowed,
As the mere sight of Him places us on the holiest ground?”

The Angel stepped up to the couple and stilled His golden feet.
The Man of Rest realized He waited for one of them to speak!
“Are…are you the Man who spoke to this woman?” he said.
“I am,” said the Angel, crowned by the sun bright overhead.  

The Man of Rest wondered at the Prince of his heartland,
Glanced down at His feet and read that their meeting was planned.
On a road made of pages - and unfathomable skill - 
The Angel remained for their questions, His standing patient and still.

With his wife by his side, he gathered the courage to ask:
“My Lord,” said the husband, “now may Your words come to pass!
What child is this, and what is his rule of life to be?
Will you tell us of his work? And what is his mission to believe?”

And so the Angel smiled at the couple in an open gentleness,
His eyes were soft as He took pity on two whisps of vapor in distress;
An unseen Hand lovingly wrapped them in a Word that lives forever on,
A man and wife to be remembered ages after they had gone.

The Angel said, “She should not eat anything from the grapevine;
She should not drink strong drink, nor shall she drink wine;
She shall eat no unclean thing, and this word she must preserve,
All that I commanded her, let your wife observe.”

A child! The man and wife embraced, both blessed and delighted
Through their questions they reveled in the message united.
Heaven stood amongst them in the early light of day,
But how does one ask for such a Traveler to stay?

The Angel waited from the rolling witness, He waited from the written road;
And land and sky will pass away long before this path of pages ever grows old.
Its companion is a Man that outshines every midday’s best sunlight:
The radiance of His Father’s glory, and the source of every man of might.

“Please, let us detain You!” said the overjoyed Man of Rest,
“Please, let us prepare a young goat for You!”
The Angel looked down at the couple so bountifully blessed
And said, “If I stay, I will not eat your food.”

“But if you offer a burnt offering,” He explained to the mortal man and wife,
“Offer it to The LORD,” He said, as the Angel of God On High.

A man given refuge as tenderly as one takes a child by the hand,
He asked, “Are You a Man with a Wonderful name?”
And the Angel said, “I am.”

And so they solemnly gathered offerings, to place them on the rock,
Gathered a goat and grain to honor God for all the wonder that He wrought;
A flame was struck and the sacrifice rose to perfume the sky,
And sunshine reveled in the highway made straight 
     by sinners right in Heaven’s eyes.
The Angel approached the flame and smoke rising upwards, Heaven-bound;
And in the sight of man and wife His golden feet lifted off the ground.
Heaven opened its glory gates,
     To receive a Man who outshines the daytime star;
The sky kissed the feet of the One riding the flames, 
     and embraced the Traveler from afar.
The written road was also lifted up on that holy path prepared,
A Man and His Word both the keepers of the greater promise to be shared- 
When the coming light will reflect his Author’s life 
          in a story Eternity has ready before-
They rose and remained just out of sight, 
          having delivered word of the child to be born.

And so his story tells of a sacrifice that lifted up a King,
A man and wife and an echo placed at the foot of the offering.
“Truly, this was the Man of God!” exclaimed the husband to his wife;
“And we have seen His Face!” he sobbed, “Now, we shall surely die!”

Wrapped in fine linen and holding a scroll,
For a word spoken by Heaven is a firm promise to hold;
His wife rose to her feet and uncovered her head,
She stood, no longer merely a woman in red,
For a child would be born, a great delivery planned,
A divine intervention from the belly of God’s promised land.
The Angel of The LORD appeared no more to the man and wife
And He left behind a special moment to outlast the vast expanse of time;
In the coming days that tried her faith, she would recall His memory,
God’s selection on display for the coming age, 
          and wrapped in Heaven’s white finery.

“Who is like our God!” she exclaimed, “He came down in our time of need!
And He gifted us His opened arms to gather us in peace!
Who else to deliver us from our enemies,
     But a man that God provides?
And why would He remain throughout our offering,
     Except to save our lives?”

Oh, give thanks to Him for the Story,
	Where a great guiding Light holds sway!
For He returned to God in glory,
	And left behind a little sun to rule by day
His ten-stringed instrument to sing relief over a dry and thirsty land,
Give thanks to Him who reigns supreme, 
     and praised by the very works of His own Hand!

The man and wife, they both returned to 
         the house of the Man of Rest;
And in their chest, their hearts did burn
         for the walk a Word has blessed.
They often recalled the written road
         on their journey to the son;
They crossed the land where Heaven strode,
         uplifted by the Word of One.

The woman treasured the mystery scroll,
	The riddle of her time;
She sewed it deep into the linen folds,
	For Heaven keeps its words in white.
Every day, she asked for strength,
	As God had revealed Himself a friend;
She trusted Him with a mother’s proud heartache,
	Over one destined to meet a hero’s end.

And the promise hovered over the chosen land
A word spoken to deliver a people, as with an excellent Hand;
A little light spoken and his story prepared,
While chaos feasted in darkness, the night robbed unaware
Already bettered and blind to where the real power stood,
That what is meant to be evil will be turned for the good.

"And then you were born," said the Lion, "a dark saying of old,
A story given to a people in need of the wisdom
          a riddle will hold;
A life to be written down in service to history's ages,
A star to lead wise men to the One
          on the road made of pages,
For only He provides the sweet relief of a parable made clear,
And He is the Light of your story, written down that the far off will
          one day be brought near."

The two sat together in the dungeon darkness,
The Lion, and the legendary gone astray;
Samson blind and without holy strength to harness,
Yet to realize the treasure in a broken jar of clay.

Cruel was the place he’d made his bed
And dark was where his heart had led;
Night fell to claim his bitter soul
It found a Lord was there to claim him whole.
Oh, it was not dark to the Lion,
Even for the night’s merciless cast!
As His mere shadow a refuge to hide in,
And His Name a fortress given to outlast.
He is the Light! And to the fallen, a shield,
Heaven’s Commander whose Word is a weapon to wield.
In a pit with the One who covered him without shame,
Samson reclined in the darkness,
	In the arms of a great Lion called by name.

“You are My riddle,” said the Lion, “a bell rung to inspire,
And the echoes of your story herald someone much higher.
Never lost to nor hidden from a great work already begun,
You are My Father’s bright masterpiece 
          ever Our Man Like the Sun!
Now, the hour is dark and the night air bites cold
Yet rest here in the presence of the greater story foretold;
You were called forth with a foundation already laid,
Born to blaze a trail boldly over the path The Lord made;
Truly, you were ever held captive, and by an Excellent Hand,
Whose divine claim surpasses the grasp of mere mortal man;
Our story continues, with parallels ever bright
Let us remember together,
	For you were made right in My eyes.”



End of Chapter 2.