Among the oxen (like an ox I’m slow)
I see a glory in the stable grow
Which, with an ox’s dullness might at length
Give me an ox’s strength.

Among the asses (stubborn I as they)
I see my Saviour where I looked for hay;
So may my beastlike folly learn at least
The patience of a beast.

Among the sheep (I like a sheep have strayed)
I watch the manger where my Lord is laid;
Oh that my baa-ing nature would win thence
Some wooly innocence!

C.S. Lewis, “The Nativity”

He comes to us in the brokenness of our health,
in the shipwreck of our family lives,
in the loss of all possible peace of mind,
even in the very thick of our sins.
He saves us in our disasters, not from them.
He emphatically does not promise to meet
only the odd winner of the self-improvement lottery:
He meets us all in our endless and inescapable losing.

Robert Farrar Capon, “The Astonished Heart”

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