On Creation and Choice

Adam, the one man,
In his being and becoming,
Created, a creature among creatures,
Progenitor of our race,
Chosen and destined to be
For the Son,
By the Son,
In the Son,
Of the Son.

Grace, all grace,
Count it all grace.
The work of Salvation,
Raising the dust of the earth,
To the stuff of heaven and eternity.

One Word,
Outside of Time,
Spoken and containing all,
One Thought,
Outside of Space,
Formed in the Heart of God,
Without matter,
Brought forth matter,
Flung by limitless power,
To obey a law of Love.

With the simplicity of nothing,
He wrote the stuff of galaxies and dimension,
And in time, entered Time, Himself,
To lead us to our end,
Our rest.

Adam, in his being and becoming,
Broke the rule of Love,
Served self,
That had not created itself,
Nor could sustain itself,
But chose to choose itself.

Ultimate folly,
Calling forth endless Mercy.
Adam, progenitor of a race,
A race,
Born to the folly of its father,
Snatched from the choice of death.

Adam and his seed,
Given again a choice,
The Law broken;
“Choose life that you may live”,
A grace of Spirit to recognize the Son,

Adam, the one man,
Containing in his loins a race,
Given, one by one,
Each a mystery of Grace,
Each in his time,
In the expansion of space,
Free to choose.

Gift of the Son,
Redemption conquering Death,
A choice for each one,
Folly forever wrapped in the self,
Or Life to be lived,
In the Creator Father,
In the Savior Son,
In the Spirit One.

True Freedom, Redemption.
Free choice to choose to be redeemed,
For the Son,
By the Son,
In the Son,
By the Death,
Of the Son.

Copyright 2016 Joann Nelander

Beholding Past, Present & Future

christ_of_saint_john_of_the_cross

In Time,
Yet above it,
Beholding Past, Present and Future,
Christ, look upon my fore-bearers,
Still alive by virtue of an immortal soul.

Look upon my world, spinning in Space,
Held in its journey through Time,
By Your Father’s Almighty Word,
Destined for Judgement,
Bequeathed Mercy.

Look upon me,
In my time,
In my place,
On my journey.

My Jesus, Mercy.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

God on the Horizon

Lord, I rejoice to hear Your Voice
Echoing in my soul.
Through Your Word,
I have come to recognize that Voice
Even amidst the chaos of the world.

“Come to Me”
“Do not be afraid”
“Stand firm”
“Your God is in your midst. ”

Heaven sings “My Lord” on the horizon.
Spanning the day with Your herald,
Coming forth with the
dawn,
His notes color the firmament
In a symphony of splendor.
Playing with hues
As with a pipe organ,
He pulls out the stops in promise,
Until he captures the morn and subdued it.

Making it His own
In the mystery of You, O Lord.
He whispers to listening hearts,
“You are the Light of the world”

With eventide He strides
As Day’s work done.
Then God calls home the Sun.
But not without a closing hoorah.
As over hill and dale,
He paints for fun,
And angelic artists
Shout His blazing Glory.

All put to bed
‘Neathe a cloak of many colors,
Finally, dimming their voices
In lullabies of peace
To sleep in childlike slumber,
Save for He, Who slumbers not.

God on the horizon,
Sun to sun,
Labor swallowed up in trust,
To await His Coming
In both darkness and the dawn,
All my life long.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

My Garden Grows

I will sit here,
Speaking my heart to You.
Look on me as in a garden
Tending these flowers of love.

I water them,
Sometimes with tears,
Sometimes with sweat,
And always with the water
That flows from my Baptism.

Water my garden from above.
Make my flowers grow,
And as I tend them,
Please send your angels to plant seeds
For our eternal tomorrows,
Far off, My Love,
But soon, eternally, Now.

(C)2016 Joann Nelander

The Lord’s Joy

The Lord’s joy
Is my strength.
He persuades my heart
By gentleness.
His mercy is a fountain
Of inner mirth,
Springing up in all seasons,
To temper my sorrow,
To pour oil into my wounds,
To salt my friendships
And to delight the Father,
Who sees me
Running after His Son,
And dancing with David’s abandonment.

May I be the dimple
In Your smile,
Appealing as the uplifted arms
Of a child,
And the innocent sleep
Of a baby.

Gladness be my swaddling,
That You may
Impart to me
The power the weak
Have to touch
The Heart of God,
Accepting always
His Loving will.

Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander

Weaned Child

I am the weaned child,
Upon Your knee.
Forgetful of time,
I curl Your hair about my fingers,
And tug at Your heartstrings.

My toys, the shiny objects of yesterday,
Lie by the stairs,
By which I began my ascent to You.

Comfort me.
Cuddle me.
Tickle me.

You spend Your universe,
As You had always planned,
Delighting one so small,
The least of the Children of Man.

© 2012 Joann Nelander