Deacon Alex Jones died a few days ago after a very sudden illness. He came to the Catholic Church from his life as a Pentacostal preacher in Detroit, where he pastored two churches. When he entered the Catholic Church, after serious study of the early Church Fathers, over half his congregation followed him. It was really quite remarkable. He found the center of the Early Church was not great preaching, or even the moving of the Spirit, but the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.
May God bless him now with the Beatific Vision.
Here we are again,
You, Holy God,
Blessed Trinity,
And me,
Meeting in prayer.
I will to thank,
To praise,
To love,
And to extol Your Name,
The One, the Only,
The True,
My God.
Desiring so to open
Wide Your Heart,
As a gate yielding
To thanksgiving,
And receiving me,
Alive with praise and worship
Into the throne room
Of Your Love.
Bathed in the Spirit,
Being,
Receiving,
Head to heart,
Heart to head,
Head to heart,
Ebb and flow,
Water of Life,
My All.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Here we dwell together.
Here we dwell in loving.
Here we give, completely,
Ourselves, One to the other,one to the Other
©2015 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
Adoration of the Wise Men by Murillo /Wikipedia
Babe of Bethlehem,
Your Star still lights the way.
You are the loveliest flower,
Your Father’s good creation,
A wondrous bouquet.Kings are approaching,
Bearing gifts,
While this New Day dawns.
This day finds me by Your side,
Reverently watching,
As you nurse
At Mother Mary’s breast.
In the ordinary tasks of Motherhood,
Mary is all gift.Strangely, I am learning
As I gaze on Your Holy Family.
I squeeze between
The donkey and the lamb,
Service and sacrifice
Becoming everything in Love.How can I help?
What can I bring You?
Mary reads my heart and smiles.
You have made her a Mother,
And she already knows,
She is mine.
In loving You,
She is loving me,
And I am wrapped in familial sweetness,
Wanting to give in kind.Precious Infant, You
are changing everything.
The world without is passing,
Almost as a stranger.
I let it pass,
For I, now, know,
I am passing, too.Without fear, I look on You,
Your days on Earth are numbered,
And yet, they are without end.
I, too, accept Your Father’s will.Kings are approaching,
Searching for meaning,
and giving all
To come to You.
Wise Men, heartened by Your Star,
Following the signs
And listening with their hearts,
Doing all that they can do,
And accepting from your angels,
What they could not know on their own,
Open hearts and open ears;
I must have the same.I listen in the dark,
As new day dawns upon this world,
Now, filled with wonder;
I wonder, too.
What shall I give to You,
Having already given You my heart,
And all my dawning days?Your Soul reaches out at my behest.
I hear You.
I, now, hear You.
It is, of course, the beat of Your Heart
That whispers in it’s smallness,
Yet seems to thunder
Within my breast.“Souls, souls, souls;
Give me, souls!”
As Mary I become your handmaid.
I answer my “Amen.”By Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 