Category Archives: Christian

The Lights of Advent Keep Vigil

by
Adventskranz Porzellan

Via Wikipedia

Advent candles lit within my being,
Prayer like a torch,
Calling on the Spirit,
To light the lamp of vigil
And illuminate my soul.

Thanksgiving, a spot light,
Setting blessings all aglow,
While praise as a million votives
Ring Your manger in the night.

Though my soul be steeped in sorrow,
For the sin that went before,
My tears You turn to shining crystal
As the sea before Your throne.

O, Sun of Justice,
In Heaven you replace the shining stars.
Banish all darkness here below,
As  once Your Star lit Earth’s long night

Alight all holiness,
As a rainbow green with Life,
Arches ’bout the celestial throne,
While incandescent angels
Sing with haloed headed saints.

Because You come,
This earthy life’s Tomorrows
Are bedecked in Hope
As You knock at ready virgins’ door,

The Promise ever before me,
You stand, an open door.
I, Bold Abandonment,
Before the throne of grace,

Sainted souls gleaming like electrum
Flashing love’s arrows as lightning.
Advent becomes Christmas in my soul.

By Joann Nelander

l

Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

by

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

I Am Not Alone: Christ Is With Me

by

A letter of Saint Paul Le-Bao-Tinh

I am not alone: Christ is with me

I, Paul, in chains for the name of Christ, wish to re-late to you the trials r me in his praises. The prison here is a true image of everlasting hell: to cruel tortures of every kind – shackles, iron chains, manacles – are added hatred, vengeance, calumnies, obscene speech, quarrels, evil acts, swearing, curses, as well as anguish and grief. But the God who once freed the three children from the fiery furnace is with me always; he has de-livered me from these tribulations and made them sweet,
In the midst of these torments, which usually terrify others, I am, by the grace of God, full of joy and gladness, because I am not alone – Christ is with me.
Our Master bears the whole weight of the cross, leaving me only the tiniest, last bit. He is not a mere onlooker in my struggle, but a contestant and the victor and champion in the whole battle. Therefore upon his head is placed the crown of victory, and his members also share in his glory.
How am I to bear with the spectacle, as each day I see emperors, mandarins, and their retinue blaspheming your holy name, O Lord, Behold, the pagans have trodden your cross underfoot! Where is your glory? As I see all this, I would, in the ardent love I have for you, prefer to be torn limb from limb and to die as a witness to your love.
O Lord, show your power, save me, sustain me, that in my infirmity your power may be shown and may be glorified before the nations; grant that I may not grow weak along the way, and so allow your enemies to hold their heads up in pride.
Beloved brothers, as you hear all these things may you give endless thanks in joy to God, from whom every good proceeds; bless the Lord with me, on his lowly servant and from this day all generations will call me blessed, for to confound the noble. Through my mouth he has confused the philosophers who are disciples of the wise of this world,
I write these things to you in order that your faith and mine may be united. In the midst of this storm I cast 1my anchor toward the throne of God, the anchor that is the lively hope in my heart.
Beloved brothers, for your part put on the and take up as my patron Saint Paul has taught us. than, with all your members intact, to be cast away.
Come to my aid with your prayers, that I may have the strength to fight according to the law, and indeed and to fight until the end and so finish the race. We may not again see each other in this life, but we will have the happiness of seeing each other again in the world to come, when, standing at the throne of the spotless Lamb, we will together join in singing his praises and exult for ever in the joy of our triumph. Amen.

Reflecting on a Newborn

by

AquilaYSol/Photobucket

 

Joy was my initial response
to a day of silence,
more exactly, a day of listening.

The sense I had was of God’s delight.
He was looking on me as we do a newborn,
full of love and enchantment.
He wanted me to share this delight.
He wanted me to recognize that it was me
who delighted Him.

I had an image in my mind of angels and saints,
those present at the Mass,
passing by and looking on me
as they would a precious newborn.
(I had just consumed the Eucharist.)
Each holy spirit approached,
giving me a blessing I would grow into,
or seen another way,
by which I would grow.

The Father wanted me to know
how much it delighted Him
to see me rise after a fall.
I am a sinner but I will be a saint,
if I allow His love to form me,
and continue to rise after each fall.
It would be nice if my falls were infrequent,
but if they be a thousand,
He would grace me a thousand times,
each time I washed my robe clean
in the blood of Christ,
confessing my sins and beginning anew,
a newborn.

By Joann Nelander

A Prayer to the Good Shepherd

by

St Gregory of Nyssa’s commentary on the Song of Songs:

A prayer to the Good Shepherd

Where are you pasturing your flock, O good Shepherd, who carry the whole flock on your shoulders? (for the whole of human nature is one sheep and you have lifted it onto your shoulders). Show me the place of peace, lead me to the good grass that will nourish me, call me by name so that I, your sheep, hear your voice, and by your speech give me eternal life. Answer me, you whom my soul loves.
I give you the name ‘you whom my soul loves’ because your name is above every name and above all understanding and there is no rational nature that can utter it or comprehend it. Therefore your name, by which your goodness is known, is simply the love my soul has for you. How could I not love you, when you loved me so much, even though I was black, that you laid down your life for the sheep of your flock? A greater love cannot be imagined, than exchanging your life for my salvation.
Show me then (my soul says) where you pasture your flock, so that I can find that saving pasture too, and fill myself with the food of heaven without which no-one can come to eternal life, and run to the spring and fill myself with the drink of God. You give it, as from a spring, to those who thirst – water pouring from your side cut open by the lance, water that, to whoever drinks it, is a spring of water welling up to eternal life.
If you lead me to pasture here, you will make me lie down at noon, sleeping at peace and taking my rest in light unstained by any shade. For the noon has no shade and the sun stands far above the mountain peaks. You bring your flock to lie in this light when you bring your children to rest with you in your bed. But no-one can be judged worthy of this noonday rest who is not a child of light and a child of the day. Whoever has separated himself equally from the shadows of evening and morning, from where evil begins and evil ends, at noon he will lie down and the sun of righteousness will shine on him.
Show me, then (my soul says), how I should sleep and how I should graze, and where the path is to my noonday rest. Do not let me fall away from your flock because of ignorance, and find myself one of a flock of sheep that are not yours.
Thus my soul spoke, when she was anxious about the beauty that God’s care had given her and wanted to know how she could keep this good fortune for ever.

This Is For Me

by
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