Child of the Cross

Mother Mary,
Witness of the Passion,
Suffering witness,
Living the Passion,
As your Jesus
Hung on the Cross.

Pray, Mary.
Pray, My Mother,
Pray for me,
Who am so scattered,
Distracted and disengaged.

Pray every moment
Of my life here on earth,
That I be prepared for suffering,
That I be prepared for eternity.
That I find my Life
In the dying of Your Son,
My Lord.

Hold my hand, O Mother,
Every moment of everyday.
Pray for my yesterdays,
My today, and tomorrows.
Guide my feet to follow
In His steps.

As forbidden fruit
Appeals in its many disguises,
And occasions of evil spring-up,
Pull me out of harm’s way.
Steer me true, O Mother,

As my heart yearns for eternity
Let my glory be
As that of Jesus,
The Cross, the Crucifixion,
And the Dying.

May I live now,
Dying to Sin.
Witnessing at your side,
As Jesus beholds you.
He pronounces me your child.

I am a child
Of the Cross of Christ,
Which came to be
To ransom men.
I behold you, Mother Mary,
And you meet your Son in me.

© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Enemy, Mine

Oh, dear enemy,
How you bless me with opportunity,
For prayer,
For patience,
For trust in God,
And to implore His counsel.

You and I are called
To know and love
The Lord Jesus.
Without Him,
There is only Darkness,
And descent
Into greater and greater sin.

Abraham believed,
And it was credited to him,
As justice.
Moses promised the Prophet’s Day.
John the Baptist
Prepared His Way,
And recognized the Lamb
Who would be slain.

Oh, enemy mine,
As we engage in battle
For men’s’s souls,
Let us take care
Not to lose our own.

Abraham was the Father
Of a race,
Who would love
And serve the True God.
Moses was a trusted servant,
John was the best man,
Greater than all born of woman.

To these God revealed Himself.
Each had his day,
Then departed,
And made way,
That the Name of God
Revealed to Joseph
And the humble Virgin,
Might capture the hearts
Of the enemies of God,
Living in Sin.

Loving us,
While we were yet sinners,
He won the battle,
We now fight.
He is and will be the only victor,
With those who fear not recognize Him,
Rush to His Side,
And bow under his Banner
Of Love and Mercy.

O, enemy mine,
We were partners in Sin,
Let us become partners in Love,
Beneath the Cross of One,
Who reconciled the world
To "Abba" God

©2012 Joann Nelander

That Man, Job

That man, Job,
That sad man, Job,
That mad man, Job,
That angry man,
That suffering and troubled soul,
Behold my man, Job.

Have we not all been there?
Why, O Lord?
Am I not well-meaning,
One of the good guys,
A nice person?

Why must the Cross
Touch my life?
Am I not
Like a son to You?

With these words,
He  made me see,
"You are, indeed,
Like a Son to Me."

Who really died?

Who really died?
I never saw
The light of day.
Black descended,
Of a kind
I knew not,
And then no more….

How did I know you?
All I knew was you.
You flavored my becoming,
Your genes, my genes,
Your feelings,
Emotional rhythms,
Touching me
By blood connection.
All this,
And then no more…..

How did I feel you?
Warmth, gentle rocking
To and fro.
I felt you,
Heart-sounds
Surrounding me,
Pressing me,
Impressing me.
You whooshed at times
And hummed.
And then no more…..

How did I leave you?
I knew anguish
As once I knew you,
Your blood feeding mine,
I knew as parting,
Leaving behind mother
As gift withdrawn,
And bid goodbye.
Too young for endings,
Too soon to die,
And then no more…..

How now and by and by?
Sorrow and black
And then the Light.
New Day, as womb,
Enfolding me.
Life ending
Beginning yet again.
And I behold
The Face of God.
I live,
Knowing Love,
Yet still,
I wait for you.

Eternity has a door,
God knocks from His side,
I listen for you.
Pray but open the latch.
That you might die no more,
And free from sin,
Enter in.

There is yet more.
Who really died that day?

Sweet Cause

The world of men is full of accusers,
Innocent as doves in their own eyes.
Only the sinner finds a place at Your table,
Garbed, no longer in rotting rags,
But in wedding dress and festive best.

The lowly come
And are welcomed.
Choosing a place at Your feet
You invite "Come up higher".
At Your breast the disciple rests.

Hearts make merry,
While the wine of wisdom
Turns sorrow into joy,
Allowing the cross no less,
Sweet cause of happiness.

©2013 Joann Nelander