The world, in turmoil, convulses.
Peoples flee.
Those who know You,
Run to You.
Those, who are rushing
To the pit in despair,
Flee from You,
As from Leviathan.Show forth Your Truth and Beauty.
Stop sinners in their flight.
Smile, as the Sun from heaven,
That all men may truly see,
And all men know You, O Truth.You are a scourge
To the proud,
But to the man,
Who clearly sees himself,
For what he is, and faints.
Then, coming to his senses,
Lies prostrate in repentance;
To that man You are Hope
And help, and healing.Your Mercy covers a multitude of sin.
Your blood, sprinkled on us,
Cries out “Sanctuary!”
O Altar, O Victim, O Priest.Christ Jesus,
You know my heart,
And yet embrace it.
Your priestly garment
Covers my nakedness.
Your Kingly Mantle identifies me,
As Child of the Great King.
My name is written on Your Thigh.
Like a mother,
You brought me forth at Your Knees,
To claim me eternally.The waters well up,
I am washed,
And carried in the current,
To ride the waves of Your Mercy
And come to rest on Your shore
For all eternity.Celebrate the Mass
Of our Redemption,
Once for all,
And for all time.
The thunder is silent.
The quaking ceases.
The clouds of darkness part.
The Sun of Justice rises,
And the course of the world
Obeys the Will of Your Father.O Christ, O Holy One,
Guide the course
Of this wayward planet.
Set the earth aright,
And welcome its people
Into Your Heart.© 2011 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved.
Tag Archives: Catholic
Prayer and the Indwelling Christ
Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.By Joann Nelander
Anointing of the Sick assures nearness of Christ, says Pope :: EWTN News
Anointing of the Sick assures nearness of Christ, says Pope :: EWTN News.
In his Wednesday general audience Pope Francis gave a brief catechesis on the sacrament of the anointing of the sick, noting that its purpose is to bring Christ close to the recipient.
“Every time we celebrate this sacrament, the Lord Jesus, in the person of the priest, comes close to those who suffer and are gravely ill or elderly,” explained the Pope on Feb. 26.
“The special grace of this sacrament” should not cause us to fall into an “obsessive search for a miracle” or “the presumption that it can always obtain healing,” cautioned the Pontiff. Rather, “it is the certainty of the closeness of Jesus to the sick, the elderly.”
Pope Francis then went on to explain to the crowd of nearly 50,000 in St. Peter’s Square that the practice of this sacrament comes from Christ himself who “taught his disciples to have the same predilection for the sick and the suffering, and handed down to them the ability and the responsibility to continue to offer (it) in his name after his own heart of comfort and peace.”
The the biblical image that shows the Anointing of the Sick “in all its depth (and) the mystery that shines through” it is the parable of the Good Samaritan, noted the Pontiff.
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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?
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