It was like a church to me. I entered it on soft foot, Breath held like a cap in the hand. It was quiet. What God was there made himself felt, Not listened to, in clean colours That brought a moistening of the eye, In movement of the wind over grass. There were no prayers…
It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.
Jesus the Christ, unconquerable even by death! Bursting out from the depths of the tomb, A new power; let loose in the world. Now unrestrictedly. Accumulating evidence of a risen spirit body demonstrating victory. A meeting in a garden. Bread in a house. Fish on the shore. A promise of more to come. No more…
And where is Jesus, this strange Easter day? Not lost in our locked churches, anymore Than he was sealed in that dark sepulchre. The locks are loosed; the stone is rolled away, And he is up and risen, long before, Alive, at large, and making his strong way Into the world he gave his life…
See, as they strip the robe from off his back And spread his arms and nail them to the cross, The dark nails pierce him and the sky turns black, And love is firmly fastened onto loss. But here a pure change happens. On this tree Loss becomes gain, death opens into birth. Here wounding…
He gives himself again with all his gifts And now we give him something in return. He gave the earth that bears, the air that lifts, Water to cleanse and cool, fire to burn, And from these elements he forged the iron, From strands of life he wove the growing wood, He made the stones…
Three long years, waiting for the moment to come. Then the first secret, a borrowing of a donkey. A humble, unassuming donkey, yet a triumphant journey into the heart of Jerusalem. Waving palms, praising voices, hailing the new Son of David. Gripped with excitement, I followed. The hour had surely come! This must be the…
Now to the gate of my Jerusalem, The seething holy city of my heart, The saviour comes. But will I welcome him? Oh crowds of easy feelings make a start; They raise their hands, get caught up in the singing, And think the battle won. Too soon they’ll find The challenge, the reversal he is…
So much suffering and even still searing these Covid years with strange patterns like wood worm in a fallen branch dying without goodbyes, kisses, words of love hanging in grieving hearts – still medical workers in exhaustion slipping grips, in many failures suffering and with courage and compassion standing beside – even still suffering in…
Surely it is no accident that the parable of beginnings is set in a garden… There, God and humans in harmonious collaboration could create Paradise. Just a fantasy? A story from long ago? Rather, a life-truth’. Understanding resonating with deep experiences. For, wherever we work with the raw ingredients, water, soil, sunlight and vegetation, we…
