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

The Fisher and His Net

You are inconvenient Truth.
I want to believe myself alive.
I tout myself spiritual.
You are the spoiler
In the midst
Of my presumptions.

I run with the world
And You fish for me.
Cast your net after me.
I duck the toss,
Scamper out of reach.

Though its weave
Be that of Love,
It’s warp be reason,
Faith the weft
That elevates,
I fear your net as chains.

If I only knew
Who it is
Who is constantly
Trolling the Deep
To save me.

If I could see
That I am blinded
In the chaos.
Trapped in ancient lies,
Ensnared in deception’s trenches.

Tides and currents,
Direct my movement.
I am not free.

I flow
Caught in the embrace
Of the masses,
Pitiful humanity,
Chained by tumultuous sensation ,
And arrogant bravado,
Regardless of Truth’s freedom.

Relentless Pursuer,
Plot the routes of my escape
To wait for me
In the shallows
And guide me.
Then encircled
By Your arms,
Lift me beyond myself.

Deliver me, O, Fisher
From the waters
In which I drown.

Draw me up
To Yourself
Separating the flotsam,
And jetsam,
Counting me Your own.

© 2012 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

Graced to Be

I offer You, O Lord,
The ground of my being,
The deep from wither
My thoughts and prayers arise.

O Holy Spirit,
Hover over the abyss within,
To grace the land
Rising out of my chaos,
Like the signal blessing
Of the dove of peace,
And a new beginning
Over the waters
After the Flood.

Free me from sin and disorder,
That my unique soul
May shout for joy,
Even for the wonder
That I am,
That You rejoice
To reveal me to be
In true humility,
That I may awaken
To give You due
Honor and praise.

Break up the clods
Of my ignorance
And self-satisfaction.
Plow my field cross hatch,
Plant my furrows with gospel seed.
Water me
That I may be a garden
Of hidden delights,
And a comfort to You
In Your rest.

I Watched a Friend at Prayer

I watched a friend at prayer.
From the moment her eyes
Met Yours on the Cross,
She was enraptured.

What is it that passes between like souls?
The gulf between You, God,
And Your creature is unfathomable,
Yet, Your love spans the distance and dissimilarity
With the intimacy of a mother
Suckling her infant,
All giving, all gift and all grace.

I watched my friend at prayer.
The world about her changed.
A holy space surrounded her,
As angels hurried to and fro,
Now bowing, now prostrate, now adoring.

All prayer unites,
As earth receives its Savior-God,
As Man exercises dominion,
Freed from Sin and chains.

Angels in swift flight,
Aloft on mission-wings ,
Now ascending,
Now descending.

Peace on earth
To men of good will,
As Time and Eternity kiss,
Love knowing no distance.

I watched my friend at prayer,
As her prayer became my prayer,
You drawing all to Yourself.
Draw me now,
And all will in turn
Run after the odor of Your ointments.

 ©2011 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

Can Heaven Be Made More Glorious

If heaven can be made more glorious,
Make it so, my Lord.

If the honor and respect,  I show,
Sinner, though I am,
Can render
Your saints more glory,
For the light
They shine on men,
Make it so, my Lord.

If the blood of martyrs,
Can again be received
Before Your throne,
Mingled with the Blood of Christ,
That coursed their veins,
And flowed out
As rivers.
To wash the Nations
And praise Your Holy Name,
Make it so, my Lord.

All time is Now
In Your Eternity.
Your battles,
Though waging on earth,
Have all been won,
And presented to You
In Your Son.

“Thy Kingdom come!”
You make it so , O my Lord.

©2012 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved