Refuge of Sinners

Refuge of Sinners

I sit in the sunshine of Your New Day.
Forgiveness has washed over me.
At Your Word,
Mercy has rained upon Your Beloved.

Hear now, You say to me:
You are safe, My little one.
You have chosen to hide yourself
In the Wound of My Sacred Heart.

The world about is cold and unholy,
Yet you are surrounded by angels of Light.
Warm and welcoming is the Living Flesh
That is your constant refuge.

I enfold you,
As you have  made My Body,
Your Food, your Heart,
Your own.

Copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

This Day For God

John the Baptist baptizing Christ

Father, I thank you for this day, this holy day.
As I rise from sleep, may my soul arise,
Leaving sin to seek Your face.
As I wash in preparation for new day,
I recall my Baptism.
And the cleansing River of Life
That flowed from the side of my Redeemer.

As I clothe my body,
I remember the dignity of Christ
And the Name by which He calls me.
I am clothed in the robes of a priest
To sacrifice with Jesus in my day.
The words of a prophet
Live on my lips,
Ready to give an account
Of my hope and joy.

The Kings of Kings
Proclaims me a king,
By the power of His throne in heaven,
He rules in my life,
And the lives my life touches,
Through all generations.

Through my prayer of faith,
Covered in humility,
Born of the Blood of Christ,
Angels minister to the People of God.
Grace bringing peace, protection, strength and provision.

I proclaim my “Amen”
To His Will
And His prayer,
“Father, forgive them.”

Go before me, Lord.
Walk with me, Lord.
Be my rearguard,
Precious Savior, Warrior King!

You, Who live in me,
Suffer in my flesh
That which is to be
In this hour on Your Cross.

You are “more than a conqueror”
As You bring about Your kingdom,
In this day.
O, Love sublime,
My life is Thine.

By Joann Nelander

This Is For Me

The Crucifixion of Christ by Simon Vouet

Image via Wikipedia

They choose nails to fix You to the Tree of Life, the witness of Your Death.

It was Love that drew You to that Hour, that thrice holy Hour,

Love, not nails, that held You fast, upon the beam.

Your Father’s Will was the cord that bound and secured You,
Heart and Soul, Your Undivided All.

You choose this consummation, devoid of earthly pleasure,
Your Passion, the counter and all consuming Fire, that ravages Sin,
The Sin of our earthly passions,
That spends our lives in unholy rebellion.

When all others fled for want of Godly self-possession,
You mounted Your Cross in peace and resignation.

This throne of suffering and sovereignty held dominion
Over the underworld and all it’s gods.

Your edict, a request: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

It is Love that draws You to this Hour, this thrice holy Hour,

Love, not nails, that weds me, in freedom and abandonment, to Your All Holy Heart.

By Joann Nelander

Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.

Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.

Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.

You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.

Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.

Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.

On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.

New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.

Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.

If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.

Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.

By Joann Nelander

Heart Afire

Jesus, Heart Afire,
Furnace blazing,
Fueled by Love,
Burning without consuming,
Radiant heat,
And all pervading.

Soul, drawn to escape
The hell of Darkness,
With an exchange
Of holy vows.
Free to flee,
Though enraptured
By superior desire.

Created One,
Of two natures,
Once at peace,
Fallen, then to warring,
Barred from Eden’s gate.

Blazing Promise
And Redemption,
Offering Sin’s undoing,
Constant in Your wooing.

Creat anew,
As once in Paradise,
Purified and restored
Exceeding recognition.
Raised beyond perfection,
Melted, purged,
Merged, and welded,
Seamless life as Mother’s garment.
To live now
In Thee,
For Thee,
Through Thee.
Knowing All
In knowing Thee.

Two natures,
Now at Peace
Both lost,
And found,
In Loving Thee.

Copyright Joann Nelander 2011

All rights reserved

Invite the Angels and Saints

I’ll be headed out the door in a few minutes to attend the Mass. It amazes me that year after year I have been given the grace to participate in daily mass. It is a great blessing especially since I am no saint.  I’m slogging it out here below hoping one day that Jesus will call me and bid me come to Him that with angels and saints I might be with Him forever.

Sometimes at communion, I am overjoyed but most often my feelings are like those expressed by the Little Flower.  Would that my response also be as hers.

What can I tell you, dear Mother, about my thanksgivings after Communion? There is no time when I taste less consolation. But this is what I should expect. I desire to receive Our Lord, not for my own satisfaction, but simply to give Him pleasure. I picture my soul as a piece of waste ground and beg Our Blessed Lady to take away my imperfections–which are as heaps of rubbish–and to build upon it a splendid tabernacle worthy of Heaven, and adorn it with her own adornments. Then I invite all the Angels and Saints to come and sing canticles of love, and it seems to me that Jesus is well pleased to see Himself received so grandly, and I share in His joy. But all this does not prevent distractions and drowsiness from troubling me, and not unfrequently I resolve to continue my thanksgiving throughout the day, since I made it so badly in choir. You see, dear Mother, that my way is not the way of fear; I can always make myself happy, and profit by my imperfections, and Our Lord Himself encourages me in this path.”