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
Mary, Virgin, Mother of God,
The perfectly fashioned,
And tuned instrument,
A violin,
In the hands of God,
As He plays His music
For the Son.
©2012 Joann Nelander
The promised Savior was to be
-the cause of the fall of many
-the cause of the rise of many
-a sign of contradiction.
Who is Jesus for you?
On Creation and Choice
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
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
I know so little of myself.
I perceive myself to be
Only because
You think of me.
I spin about like elemental sprites,
Really nothing without You,
Yet dancing as the orbs
Upon the stage
Of Time and Space.
I know so little of my heart,
How it can beat and bow,
And even break.
That I am free to move,
In opposition to Your dreams for me.
You are the spirit and stuff
Of my many moments,
The thought I hold dear,
And the music I hear.
I know so little of myself,
But You speak me and here I be,
Living and dreaming,
Praying and waiting,
To see all You have thought of me.
Copyright 2016 Joann Nelander
Lying in the sunshine of Your love,
Recounting humming bird days,
Flitting as flashes flung to the heavens,
I look to the horizon,
For the rising of yet another sun.
I feel I know You.
It is me I doubt,
But I don’t know why.
I have spent my life
Becoming what I think
You want me to be.
Others, though, have always
Seemed to do it better.
Here I am at eve tide,
Recounting the many waters,
That wash these shores.
Your Beauty plays for me,
Painting the setting sun;
I guess, to reassure my clay
Of The Love You are,
As I still look for me,
Reflected in Your smiling eyes.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 