A Christmas Poem…

“PURE WHITE”

It doesn’t matter
if the snow was falling
fierce or lazily or not at all.

The sinless Son of God
was bright enough without that pall.

Advent Voices: The Shepherds

At the end of another hectic week (and I still haven’t started my Christmas cards), here’s another one of my Advent readings. I find the shepherds to be especially poignant. I imagine them wistful, wondering what it would be like to be part of a larger community, to be “in the know”. They’re always out-of-town, out of touch, out of the loop. No one tells them anything.

Which makes it so delightfully kind of the Lord to tell them the Good News first–and let them tell everyone else.  (***If you’d like to read more about the historic shepherds and why they were such unlikely recipients of the greatest newsflash ever, check out this article at Livebold.com.)

I wrote Advent Longings because I wanted to hear the Biblical voices still waiting, those patient faithful souls waiting without any clear idea of hope being fulfilled. As we wait here in the between-time, looking for our Lord’s second coming, may their voices fill us with new hope.

Happy third Sunday of Advent!

A Poem for Mother’s Day, from a great mother: Ruth Bell Graham

One of the mothers I admire most (other than my own dear departed, whom I wrote a bit about here) was Ruth Bell Graham. Her courage, devotion and persistent life-long faith are inspiring to me. She loved and prayed for a prodigal; her writing refreshes my hope for my own prodigals. Below is one of my favorite poems of hers.  I offer it to all praying mothers, in honor of Mother’s Day. May we all bow before the Infinite Wisdom.

Had she been another mother:

Had I been Joseph’s mother
I’d have prayed
protection from his brothers:
“God keep him safe;
he is so young,
so different from
the others.”
Mercifully she never knew
there would be slavery
and prison, too.

——————————-

A poem, five years old, but it still resonates with me. A blessed Sunday to you all.

Winnowing...sorting the wheat and chaff of my thoughts

Psalm 77: Suspending My Disbelief, Sustaining My Hope

When all that was vibrant and teaming with life

feels like pewter plate–heavy and dull;

When the duties of worker and mother and wife

leave me hollowed, a beaten-down hull;

Your Word is a light flick’ring fast in the gloom,

and Your Wind blows a life-giving breeze through my desolate room.

– – – – – –

The bow which caresses the string strokes a lingering tone,

and it trembles, sustained on the air, an invisible wave.

The Word suspends each spinning sphere on a track of its own,

and their circular dance shapes our seasons from birth to the grave.

– – – – – –

When I can’t feel my pulse for the numbness inside,

and my heart is a stone in my chest;

When I’ve run out of salt for the tears that I’ve cried,

and my sleep is…

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A Christmas Poem

 

PURE WHITE

It doesn’t matter

if the snow was falling

fierce or lazily or not at all.

The sinless Son of God

was bright enough without that pall.

The world, cold, dark and rough

at heart,

whether encased in ice

or just crouched low and acting tough

under its crust of piety—this world

was due to be

dazzled

by the pure white heart of love.    

     -GBL, 2008

 

May you be dazzled by God’s love throughout the coming year.  

–Godsbooklover & Justturnright

An Advent Meditation for a Dark World

This piece is from a cycle of  readings entitled Advent Longings, which I wrote in 1997:

Isaiah the prophet sits in silence, watching the sunset of a nation… “O Lord, it darkens! Fast the night is falling in our hearts.” He weeps aloud for the glory of Israel, the glory faded now past all remembrance—except his, it seems.

“We’ve turned our backs upon the burning bush. The pillar of fire and cloud no longer guides us. We seek no more the all-consuming fire of Your holiness. You have spoken and we have stopped our ears against You. You have been the light that lightens all our lives, and we have cursed its brightness and embraced the night.

“O Lord, is there no end to all the works of darkness?

A Poem for the First Sunday in Advent

by: Godsbooklover

It’s the first Sunday of the season of anticipation that the Church calls “Advent”…which simply means ‘coming’.  We reenact the longing that Israel felt waiting for its promised Messiah, by counting down to our celebration of Christ’s birth.

But for Christians, Advent is never just about a reenactment or a birthday party for someone born 2,000 years ago.  It’s also our own true longing for our Savior’s SECOND coming, which will restore all things to their rightful place of subordination under the rule of Almighty God.

Finally, justice and mercy will flower, death will be swallowed up in life, and every knee will bow before the King, proclaiming, “Jesus Christ is Lord!” to the glory of God the Father (see Philippians 2:9-11).

Meanwhile, we wait here in a dark world, and we light our candles of hope anew each December.

Here’s a poem which echoes many of the themes this blog has been playing for the past several months. Thanks to Bob Myers over at his excellent blog, ‘Thots on Life and Worship’, for introducing this poem (and this poet) to me.