Seek grace before bliss.
To seek bliss,
Is to seek the gift
May be to shun the Giver.
Who conjures dreams matters.
My pleasure may spring
From forbidden springs.
Before I entrust
Myself to gods,
Should I not seek
To discern “truths”
From Truth.
Come, come,
O, kind Spirit of Truth,
Though You contradict my way,
I promise to obey,
Clad in Your grace,
Day by day.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Who will come to the stable
On Christmas Day?
And what will they take away?
Wise men, steadfast and earnest, came,
Instead of palace music,
They heard the donkey brae.
A lowly sound and sight,
Yet their wonder unallayed.
Many come rejoicing,
To behold the Newborn King,
Bowing low,
While angels sing.
Christ comes for all
But not all come.
Some come, behold, then fall away,
Being rootless, they merrily go their way.
Father God prepared a voice
To announce His Only Word,
A messenger, born before, to go before.
Another child, spared Ramah’s plight
To live and pierce Sin’s long night
John, O, John, still cries, “Repent!”
Prepare if you would follow.
At Jerusalem’s Gate,
Many cried, “Messiah,”
Who would soon cry, “Crucify.”
Whose will will you do,
When the music fades in life?
Pride prides itself on ‘my way,’
Confounds with will and strife.
Without a ready, willing heart,
Nothing changes Christmas Day.
Corrupt hearts go on corrupting,
All the while the kingly Infant cries,
As throughout His life,
“I am the Way.”
Whose heart will live in yours
As angelic songs fade away.
Will you simply leave the stable
To follow your own way?
Come, O come, rejoicing!
Praying for a change.
Receive the Babe within your Heart.
Beg Him forever stay.
©2010 Joann Nelander
I left You long ago,
To wander in a world of choices,
Bombarded by alluring voices.
I left at home
All cords that bound,
Proudly casting off all staked to holy ground.
I soared mounting the wind,
On Icharus’ wings waxed proud,
‘Til sun and heat spoke Truth aloud.
I left You long ago.
Now in swift descent I fall,
Humbled, hoping to be caught by Lord of All.
Ceaseless the prayer You desire of me.
Your Eyes behold me.
You wait for me to lift my eyes
From the world
To gaze heavenward,
To behold You smiling upon me.
You long for our eyes to meet
In an exchange of love
And longing.
Ceaseless prayer is no less
Than a return of Love’s attention,
Glances passed one to the Other,
Constancy of care,
Attentive watchfulness.
Hearts speak in wordless knowing
All the while willing to know and be known.
The Greater gifting the lesser
With nothing less than His own Life.
The world becomes a room
Filled with the Light You shed
As I become a candle
Held in the Hand of God,
Melting in a pool,
Readied for a new mold,
True to the goodness
God gives me,
As He beholds
His creation from eternity
And says throughout Time
“It is good. ”
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
Call to me, loudly command,
When you call me forth
From the grave of my sin,
I rejoice.
When, on the Last Day,
You call me forth from the tomb,
From my burial rest,
I shall jubilantly rejoice.
With the saints,
And angels to cheer me,
Invite and speak my name,
Command, “Come forth!”
Death shall cower and fall away,
And the perfume of sanctity
Attend me.
My cloud of witnesses
Testify to Your many mercies
Showered and shown me.
Then shall my heart sing
And the feet of my testimony dance
To the music of Your Kingdom
And the song of Mary,
Who sang lullabies in my rest
Upon Your breast.
©2012 Joann Nelander
EASTER MORN
Holy Mother Mary,
I invite Your presence in my life.
As you look on my days,
Listen to my prayers,
Watch my growth through the years,
Touch me with the graces
Of.your Motherly prerogative,
You who walked the way of the Cross
With your Holy Son,
From the instant of His Incarnation
In your sacred womb,
Be beside me
In my every moment.
Meet me in my joys and sorrows
And impart your maternal blessing.
May my soul grow holy,
As you rush to lift me,
When I fall,
Just as you interceded
For Jesus in His Passion.
He fell under the weight of my sins,
And you cried out to heaven.
Hear now my heart
Beseeching thee.
Standing by His Cross,
See me in His Suffering
And receive me as your own.
Take the moments,
And all the years,
Of my existence,
In your arms,
As you did the Body of your Son,
When He was lowered from His Cross.
He wrought my Salvation
In that fearsome Hour.
Wrap my years in His shroud
And when I wake,
Rejoice in this,
My Easter morn.
Be Holy! 