Savior Buried Beneath the Madness – A Christmas Poem

Updated on December 31, 2017
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Geri McClymont loves how poetry enables us to express thoughts and emotions with greater ease.


Christmas is, and always has been, my favorite time of the year. The joyous Christmas tunes and festive holiday spirit always make me smile. Here in Colorado, we often have a snowfall in December, and the sight of the evergreen trees dusted with snow is truly a sight to behold.

I enjoy driving through the historic part of my town, where large wreaths decorate lampposts and white lights transform the streets into a magical wonderland. People scurry about from here to there in search for presents, bundled up in their winter coats, hats, and mittens.

And in the midst of all the holiday glitter and frenzy, I easily forget what Christmas really celebrates: the birth of Jesus, the baby born to die for us so that we might be saved through Him.


I also forget the unglamorous way God sent us Jesus – as a helpless infant born to an unwed teenager, who gave birth in a stable on a cold winter night, because there was no room for her in the inn.

Jesus, You came to a world that didn’t deserve You.

We spat on You, ridiculed You, and in the end, we nailed You to a cross.

And even as we did this to You, You forgave us. And You turned to the criminals crucified beside you and spoke to them of Your kingdom.

But Jesus was saying, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."

— Luke 23:34a

We still don’t deserve You.

Yet there You are, always waiting for us to come to You, ready to receive us.

This is a poem I wrote about how easy it is to get so caught up in the holiday frenzy that we miss the real meaning of Christmas.

Savior Buried Beneath the Madness

It was early dawn

On Christmas morn

And underneath the tree

No gifts remained –

They’d all been claimed

By loved ones and by me.

We’d all been up

Since half past dusk

To seize our rightful treasures:

Boxes full of all the things

That give us so much pleasure.

And stockings, too, filled with stuff and fluff,

And more stuff, for good measure.

Torn wrappings, ribbons, packaging

Lay scattered ‘round the room.

And children played,

While adults swayed

And danced to Christmas tunes.

And in the midst of all the racket

On that early morn,

We all forgot that in the night

A baby had been born.

So no one saw

The baby boy

Buried ‘neath the clutter.

His hand reached out, invisible

To us, who thought we loved Him.

His muffled cries

Were unheard too

As He pleaded for our notice.

But we could not hear, nor see, nor feel

For our senses were distorted

By all the glitter, frenzy, noise

That filled our Christmas day.

And we just kept on unnoticing Him

Until at last He passed away.

The Savior still reaches His hand

To me, through all the madness.

This baby, born to die for me,

And to reverse my blindness.

He beckons still, His voice so mild,

If only I will hear it.

And offers yet

His gift to me

And asks if I’ll receive it.

© 2015 Geri McClymont


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    • gerimcclym profile image

      Geri McClymont 2 months ago

      Thanks for your comments, Gloria. It's good to know others share my sentiments about Christmas.

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      Gloria Padrós de Henning 2 months ago

      Dear Geri,

      I have read your poem. It's sadly true. I think about Christmas, as you do. You are a very clear and clever writer, and I loved the poem. Thanks for your testimony.

    • gerimcclym profile image

      Geri McClymont 2 years ago

      Thanks for reading, Vellur. I share your thoughts. It is often easier to not listen but I feel that the more we listen, the easier it becomes to hear His voice.

    • Vellur profile image

      Nithya Venkat 2 years ago from Dubai

      Beautiful poem reminding us about the actual significance of Christmas. If we listen intently we will definitely hear His voice.

    • gerimcclym profile image

      Geri McClymont 2 years ago

      Thank you for your comment, Ms. Dora. Yes, the challenge is to listen over all the noise and busyness.

    • MsDora profile image

      Dora Weithers 2 years ago from The Caribbean

      Beautiful Christmas message told in beautiful poetry. If we listen amid the hustle and bustle, we would hear Him. Thanks for helping us focus.

    • gerimcclym profile image

      Geri McClymont 2 years ago

      Thank you for your words, Ann. It is so easy to get caught up in all the frenzy and materialism bombarding us from all angles. I'm glad to hear you share the sentiments expressed in my poem.

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      Ann Carr 2 years ago from SW England

      This is a beautiful poem and has a most important message; I've looked around lately and thought that the meaning of Christmas has been forgotten in all the materialism. I't sad but true. Maybe the circle will start turning now as the truth filters through the madness - I hope!

      The construction and rhythm of your words fit very nicely.


    • gerimcclym profile image

      Geri McClymont 2 years ago

      Thank you, Ruby, Jodah and RTalloni, for your comments. I'm glad the poem seems to convey what I tried to express. I will have to check out the book you mentioned, RTalloni, and thank you for the reference.

    • Jodah profile image

      John Hansen 2 years ago from Queensland Australia

      This is a beautiful but also sad Christmas poem, Geri. Many of us have forgotten or no longer care about the true meaning of Christmas and the birth of our saviour. I love the creative and effective way you wrote this. Well done.

    • always exploring profile image

      Ruby Jean Fuller 2 years ago from Southern Illinois

      This is sad, yet full of truth. We've forgotten why we celebrate Christmas. Beautiful poetry.

    • RTalloni profile image

      RTalloni 2 years ago from the short journey

      A thoughtful take on Christmas madness, a reminder to remember why He came to fulfill the promise (Isaiah 53:3-7), and a prompt to consider what came of His coming (John 10:10).

      If you haven't read it The Inn Keeper by Piper, J. Piper, is a wonder-filled read for this season: