Words to bridge the gap between faith and life…
Some wise men follow, some betray;
some see the star, some walk astray.
Some kings will bow, some kings will kill;
some men will starve, some have their fill.
Some hearts will turn to rock; some stones
will call in praise before His throne.
Our folly becomes wise in Him;
bow down, world’s wise men; know your king.
(Image: Sassetta Giovanni, “Journey of the Magi”)
It shatters; it transfigures:
from dust, His kingdom
lifts up dust, exalts our frame,
remembers, changes, in His name,
breathes new life into dry bones,
reanimates the dead.
Eleven dusty men, arise:
the mountain-top reveals your king.
All authority given Him,
He gives to you. Lift feeble feet;
He gives His message now to you.
The kingdom – shout it! – now is here.
Amidst the dust of here and now,
be its hands and feet.
What is sin?
Sin is rejecting God in the world he created, rebelling against him by living without reference to him, not being or doing what he requires in his law – resulting in our death and the disintegration of all creation.
(New City Catechism)
The choice of the moment:
a hand to reach out and pluck
or hold, be still, believe.
The friction of the heart:
denying the Maker’s wisdom,
requiring yet still rejecting.
The pride of the decision:
as though lungs refused air
or ground denied gravity.
The destruction of the act:
earth dries, flesh rots,
equilibrium tears and breaks.
The coldness of exile:
knowledge gained, rejection done,
yet victory hollow and dead.
The priests conspire. Money changes hands.
Even still, the truth must be buried in dark.
And yet it bursts forth. Indomitable, it rises:
a spring-bloom which cannot be killed…
When the first-fruits sprout, the harvest follows.
The best-laid plans of priests and men
cannot contain what God has raised.
See, it shatters every earthly tomb.
Rock-hard hearts: stone rolled away;
see God shake us in His way.
Unseeing eyes: look and know;
cast off doubt at heaven’s show.
Fearful feet: stop and see
the empty tomb, the mystery.
Dust-born flesh: He knows and heals.
The heavens ring with Easter peals…
And all our stony, ashen flesh
is changed now in His endlessness.
Down, they took his body down;
Joseph, Nicodemus took
him to the tomb reserved for him
and soldiers stood and watched.
There they stood; the soldiers stood,
to see what ruse might there unfold.
suspicious, victory not quite won,
the soldiers stood in wait.
Dark took hold, the sky asleep,
the faithful in their hiding holes,
only women weeping, with
firm vigil in their hearts.
They took him down to Golgotha,
to Golgotha, the place of skulls;
they set him in between two thieves
and hurled disease on him.
They struck his face and speared his side
at Golgotha, at Golgotha;
they called him king and laughed at him
and cursed him on the tree.
The earth, it shook at Golgotha,
at Golgotha, the place of skulls;
the dead arose, the sky was dead
and soldiers stared at him.
They said he was the Son of God,
at Golgotha, at Golgotha;
he bled and died at Golgotha,
accursed, upon a tree.
A new command I give to you
High Priests gather; darkness looms
That you love as I’ve loved you
Pilate’s wife now dreams…
Love your enemies and pray
Judas gives back bloody coins
Blessed are the merciful
The High Priests buy a field
This is how all men will know
Pilate struts; the people shout
That you are all my followers
Judas hangs in shame.
If you have love, one to another
“Shall I give him back to you?”
A new command I give to you
“Crucify!” they scream.
But listen as they question Him;
listen as they plot and lie.
Listen: by the fireside,
Peter lies and cries.
Watch as, dust, we crumble down;
watch the Son of Man, betrayed,
tell the truth, secure His death
and die for dust He made.
Has anything like this been seen?
The eternal enters time,
ascending thrones, accepting death,
fracturing rhyme.
Yet dust we are we cannot stay
awake and pray (the flesh is weak)
and dust we are we walk away
and hide ourselves in dull deceit.
And dust He is yet more than dust
transfigured with the Father’s grief;
our dust He takes up to the Cross
and dies beside a thief.
The Consolations of Writing 