Milk and Honey

I hear of folly and fowl play.
I look to You,
And remember Your Cross.

The psalmist sang of the Dark Valley.
Yet knew Your Presence and Your shield.

Here in my world,
Reign and sup with me.

Hope surrounds me.
As I am Yours,
Beloved child in sweet surrender.

Even Pharaoh served Your purpose.
His obstinacy but a tool in Your Hand.
The Red Sea became a bridge.
Joining heaven to a People.

Times change.
Passover continues.
Your Will,
My Land of Milk and Honey.

©2016 Joann Nelander

Seed of Hope

The seed is alive,
With the Future.
The seed
Buried seeking light.

The one Adam,
The store of generations,
Begetting,
But not solely of himself.

One alike in nature,
But unique to the task,
Played by his side,
The delight of Paradise.

Sin entered in.
Nature, sublime,
Met the devil in his slime.
Havoc and hell followed,
On a Fall
For the all,
Yet to be.

Generation,
Degeneration,
Retribution.
No restitution,
No remedy for institution.

Generations
Living under a curse,
Dying in time.
Eden lost,
Without return.

Until the One,
The sent
The holy.
Began His reign,
Faith born.
To invite again,
To turn again
From the mire!
Unto hope.

Confronting the curse
Hanging from the cross,
Accursed,
Becoming Sin,
Sin meeting its end
In Him.

Meeting His end
Defeating the end
To be the beginning,
First born of the Dead.

To be for us
To be forever New,
New life
New hope.

Finding Adam in his grave
Dry bones moved by the Spirit.
Rise with him.

A new beginning
Rising from death
To call all to life.

The life of Adam,
Born through the ages,
Played out in generations.
Out of one, many.

He, Christ,
Descending
Gathering ,
Mending,
All ascending ,
Captive to the Light.

The seed
Become
His Life,
The future without end,
Living life without end.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

DIVE DEEP INTO THE TRUE MEANING OF BAPTISM

Something amazing is going on here.

 

Lifting the Veil

Lift the veil in this morass of Sin,
That faith may blossom and hope enter in.
Let the Sun of Justice shine
Upon a people in decline,
That looking up from the tyranny of power and things
Your face may captivate and solace bring.

Pour down torrents of Thy Grace
To cleanse this dry and brutal place ,
Uproot to plant anew
A Day of peace like settled dew,
That minds be bright and intellects sublime
And our only glory may be Thine.

© 2016 Joann Nelander

Ashes to Ashes – Remember O Man That Thou Art Dust

compliments of flickr

by Molly Sheckler

Imposition of Ashes – Brent Rollings

Giving Gifts to God

Adoration of the Wise Men by Murillo

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