Jesus, enter the waters of our lives.
As at the Jordan,
You made holy
The water of Baptism,
Renew, in all men of good will,
Life, that flows from the God of Heaven,
Your Father, our Father, my Father.
May Your Holiness
Infuse the elements,
That compose all created things.
By the Water,
Cascading from the Temple,
Your pierced, open, and hallowed Side,
Prepare here a place for all men to abide.
Amen
Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
All men are candles,
Burning on some altar.
Some disappear into nothingness,
Before worldly idols,
Unable to sustain their spark
Beyond the veil,
Into eternity.
Others light the heavens
As they are consumed
On the altar of Love,
Merging imperceptibly,
Creature with Creator.
When my wax is spent,
I pray I am not distracted
By my sin.
When I melt
Into the arms of God,
May it be that Love,
That lit my flame,
Outshines my imperfections
In holy consummation.
Burn candle, all alight
Warming with mercy rays the night,
To Penetrate hearts of friend and foe,
To soothe and mend wounds,
Dispelling darkness
With the Uncreated Light
That set creation into being.
Now and forever,
I cast myself
Into the flame,
The furnace of His Sacred Heart.
Passing through pierced side,
One with the Virgin,
Holy angels and expurgated saints of ole,
Melted in union,
I am formed anew in Christ,
With the Father and Spirit,
Candle, altar and Salvation might.
Here I am hoping,
And willing,
Thy kingdom come.
Come now in me
With Thy loving,
Perfecting and forgiving.
Look on me,
Who am imperfection,
Straining my poor hand
In hoping supplication.
Turn your glance
Upon my soul.
Made in Your image.
Settle in my heart
As though it were
Your own mother’s womb.
Flowers of joy,
Peace and love,
Grow in humble ground.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Hugh Fitzgerald: Francis, Far From Infallible
At the beginning of every year, the Pope delivers an address in Rome to welcome the foreign diplomatic corps accredited to the Vatican. Pope Francis, a nice guy, has just delivered such a speech. It deserves attention.
The main theme of Francis’s speech is immigration, the mass movement of peoples, now this way and now that, for “mobility is part of our human nature” and “human history is made up of countless migrations.” True enough. But Pope Francis neglects to discuss what is for some of us so disturbing about the current migration into Europe: the numbers and nature of these migrants, coming from exactly where, trying to get exactly where, and carrying exactly what in their mental baggage.
The Pope does allude vaguely to “the grave crisis of migration” — but he is sure that those migrants who are true to their faith, whatever that faith may be (the word “Islam” does not occur anywhere in his long speech; the word “Muslim” occurs exactly once), are not the problem. For “every authentic practice of religion cannot fail to promote peace.”
This is an assertion for which no evidence is adduced, and no one, not even a Pope, is exempt from the need to offer such evidence. After all, a large part of European history has involved wars of religion. I suppose that weasel word “authentic” provides an out for the Pope: simply label as “inauthentic” any “practice of religion” that fails to “promote peace.” Read more here
Via Jihad Watch
The Blood and the Blood and the Blood!
O, Holy Blood,
Terrible and torrential,
Rain down rivers of Mercy,
To ravage the Defiler,
And assuage the anger of God.
Wash blasphemy from the tongue of Man,
And flood the souls of Men
With grace, pure, lovely, and above nature,
To inundate the depths of humanity,
And carry the Sons and Daughters of God ,
High on baptismal waters
To crest in waves of praise,
And break on heavenly shores,
There to adore the Most adorable,
To love the Most Lovable,
And to glorify the Most Glorious Blood of Jesus, Savior.
(c) 2016 Joann Nelander
Jesus, I place myself
In the holy confines
Of Your Sacred Heart.
Heart of my heart,
Draw heaven to me.
Surround me with friends
Of Your choosing,
That my mind might be full
Of the conversation of saints.
The world is so much with me.
It is temptress and shallow.
I long for the deep
Of Your thoughts,
To speak peace and refuge
In my wilderness.
You are the haven of my soul,
The Paradise once lost,
But now given
With my Daily Bread
Exile holds no fear
For You surround me.
You are my consolation
And marrow of my bones,
Strength of my strength.
Your Holy Spirit comes to me
And turns my tears to laughter.
In a valley of vanity and pride,
Your Humanity and Humility
Take me by the hand and heart
To lead me home.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Be Holy! 