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dawn
It starts off
as the slightest lightening
in the colourless dark,
almost imperceptible at first
and then,
a little bolder,
and soon enough
the rose-gold glow
colours the sky
from east to west.
It starts out so small,
just a scratch of light
against the darkness,
but you know the might of the sun,
and you keep watching
as the dark is dissolved in to light.
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#40hope
Hope
is that quiet shining thing,
hidden at the very centre of us.
It might be forgotten sometimes,
or covered in dust and debris,
it may be looked at
with cynicism by others,
by ourselves, even,
but it remains;
a coin, glinting in the soil,
catching the light,
catching your eye again,
reminding you of
the heart-bursting promise
that is coming.
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#39wait
The two men
on the road to Emmaus
had forgotten how to wait,
they had moved on too quickly
to despair;
'We had hoped that he
was the one who was going to
redeem Israel', they said.
They had already given up hope,
had tossed it by the wayside,
in favour of despair;
perhaps it comes quicker,
is easier to hold.
But there is strength in waiting,
in hearing a promise
and planting it deep in your heart.
There were those who lived like this,
staring down old age and infertility
with God's promise,
believing for something
as wild and outlandish as this:
a child from a lifeless womb,
a screaming mass of bone and flesh,
but it came, it came,
and like Abraham,
we must learn to live our lives this way;
waiting for the third day,
holding on to hope,
and the words that have been spoken,
no matter how barren or broken
things seem:
the story isn't over yet,
though it tarries, wait for it.
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#38darkness
I see God bowed and brooding,
his arms falling around his dear earth,
after cruel jeers
condemned his son to death.
Doubled up with grief,
he came close to the jagged earth,
his arms around, almost touching.
And it reminds me of this year;
of all the loneliness,
the people in their boxes,
staying safe by staying alone,
perhaps God is bent
and broken by our grief,
by our struggles too,
perhaps he comes close
when the darkness is too dark
to see by.
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#37mourning
Mary, bowed by grief,
goes early to the tomb
and finds it empty.
Her tears spill
as her mind races;
'Where have they taken
my Lord?'
But her tears
have left her blind,
for as she turns
in the garden,
she can't even make out
the figure in front of her,
alive and breathing,
her 'Rabboni',
the very one she is mourning.
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#36doubt
I've always loved Thomas,
the way he acts like
a petulant school boy.
'Show me then', he says,
'I won't believe unless I see it.'
And then a week later,
Jesus is there,
and all of his undoing
is there too;
'My Lord and My God', he says.
Better to be true like he was;
transformed to the core,
than false,
going with the flow,
wearing your emotions
like a mask.
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#35hidden
you were hidden
in death, in grave clothes,
waiting for the right time
to take your first breath
of rebirth.
and now I am hidden in you,
safe as houses,
where moth and rust
cannot break in and destroy,
because all my treasure is in you
and you are all my treasure.
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#34tomb
Sometimes, we too, bury our hope in darkness,
shove it beneath the soil with a hollow heart,
but even death itself was no match for my King;
life-giver, death-defier.
The truth of spring coming, though we saw only black mud,
truth of the blazing heat of the sun, though we felt only the chill.
Out of the darkest darkness,
out of nothing, came
first breath,
green shoot;
Life itself, reborn.
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#33cloths
Their very presence speaks
to what is no longer there;
the way that they fall, or are folded.
There is the dance of life about them;
the way they move themselves aside,
lift themselves up, to let Life take its first breath.
'Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is no longer here'
Luke 24:5
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#32veil
he made a way,
his body a bridge,
his death and awakening
a doorway
between this lowly land
and the pathways of heaven.
way-maker,
future-forger,
eye-opener,
the veil was torn in two,
the sea split apart,
death was undone
and the separation
was finished, finally,
once and for all.
so we could come boldly,
as children do,
no fears about their past,
no worries about their future,
their popularity, their fame,
they just come.
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#31cross
a single seed lay down in the soil,
and from it sprang life,
a tree, reaching to the heavens.
a single tree, cut down,
fashioned into planks
and then a cross
bearing the weight
of the blameless King,
a man, who was a tree of life himself,
who walked the path into death
and then out the other side,
so that his death, his planting,
would reap blessing
for generation
after generation;
a tree of life,
his branches spreading wide,
his roots reaching deep
for all who come.
and every drop of life from him,
another seed,
and every breath of life from him,
a seed bearer.
With a bit on inspiration pinched from The Three Trees story if anyone has read this or seen the play.
'Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.'
John 12:24
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#30sorrows
there are the secret sorrows,
that we carry with us;
the unanswered prayers,
the quiet longings that have
never been spoken,
but we are told our King
is a man of sorrows
and well acquainted with suffering.
he knows it well, this life,
the way it twists and turns,
blesses and then breaks us
under the weight
of its pounding waves
and knowing it well,
he walks it with us,
and in the end,
he will take it from us,
and lift the weight
from our shoulders.
all sorrow,
all the tears,
all the pain.
Inspired by Isaiah 53
'Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.'
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#29sacrifice
these gifts
we hold lightly,
their warp and weft,
their stretch and sway
as they wend their way
through our lives,
threading them with
just a touch
of heaven's fire.
we live through them,
and through them
make sense of this world.
we see you, God,
we even draw you,
in green and grace,
in white and gold,
in ink and pencil,
because we are trying,
always,
to make sense of this.
here is the sacrifice:
of time and devotion,
instead of promotion
and the sensible way.
here instead,
a different way of living:
a fractured and colourful life,
an imperfect offering
on an outstretched palm.
may this seed grow,
shooting and green,
vivid and life giving,
until it reaches
all the fullness
it was made for.
This is a poem about the creative life and is inspired by this from Frederick Buechner:
'And deep in my heart I do believe that we will overcome some day... by God's grace, by helping the kingdom grow in ourselves and in each other until finally in all of us it becomes a tree where the birds of the air can come and make their nests in our branches. That is all that matters really.
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#28crown
And so we crown you
over and over,
in the small ways of our lives,
and in the quietness of our hearts.
But perhaps it matters more, then,
because you are the only one who sees it,
and you are the only one it's for.
But I can't put it any better than Frederick Buechner in this wonderful extract: Great Laughter — Frederick Buechner
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#27thorns
the thorny crown,
a bead of blood spills,
shame falls.
he carries, then,
all the weight of sin,
and the mark of it
on his body.
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#26Majesty
Because you said yes to the path
that would cost you greatly
but bring us all freedom,
a new power was unleashed
and a new kingdom began.
One of servanthood and love;
love that had power enough
to undo and remake
our whole world.
I went with the definition of majesty that meant authority. Then went with the idea of Jesus being the servant King who God exalted above everything else.
'He humbled himself and became vulnerable, choosing to be revealed as a man and was obedient.He was a perfect example, even in his death—a criminal’s death by crucifixion!
Because of that obedience, God exalted him and multiplied his greatness! He has now been given the greatest of all names!
The authority of the name of Jesus causes every knee to bow in reverence! Everything and everyone will one day submit to this name—in the heavenly realm, in the earthly realm, and in the demonic realm.'
Phillipians 2:8 TPT
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