In Time,
Yet above it,
Beholding Past, Present and Future,
Christ, look upon my fore-bearers,
Still alive by virtue of an immortal soul.
Look upon my world, spinning in Space,
Held in its journey through Time,
By Your Father’s Almighty Word,
Destined for Judgement,
Bequeathed Mercy.
Look upon me,
In my time,
In my place,
On my journey.
My Jesus, Mercy.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
I am daughter.
I am heir.
Through the First Born Son,
I inherit a Kingdom,
For I am in Him and of Him.
My Baptism, a gift of Grace,
God is alive in my soul,
Me, dead to Sin,
Die in Him,
To live in Him.
I rise to Life,
New Life.
©2016 Joann Nelander
Only, and far flung God,
Bursting upon the scene of Time
To start the clock
By uncreated might,
And usher forth
Your manifold good will,
In the splendor of creation,
Look on me,
In my becoming.
In this, the only now I know,
This precious fleeting instant,
Reveal Yourself evermore.
You entered Time
That Man might enter Heaven.
You, Who are Eternal Being,
Let me contemplate Thee
Wrapped in swaddling clothes,
Nursing at the Virgin’s breast,
Growing as men grow,
Yet knowing the Father Creator
As only Son.
I see Thee arrayed,
Transfigured in the Light,
Even as You are stretched
Between Heaven and Earth
On Your Holy Cross,
Becoming Sin,
And dying in my stead.
Lifted above the earth in Your divinity,
Higher than the mountains,
Yet pervading depth and breathe,
To shake and shape
The cursed land and Man anew,
In elegant Revelation of Mystery,
Rising from the dead,
To live in universal blessedness,
Across all time and space,
Known but by grace.
Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander
When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.
The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.
All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.
Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.
Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.
How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.
©2012 Joann Nelander
I have seen enough to know,
I just don’t know,
But there is One Who does,
Giver of Life,
Giver of generations,
Giver of prayer.
One generation to pray
For the next generation.
Mother, and father,
Grandmother, grandfather,
A circle of care
To pray it forward.
Faith waits upon the Lord,
A gift beyond measure,
A mystery waiting to happen,
Not in our time,
But in our Father’s.
No seed too bad
To wait upon,
Hope for,
Entrust to God,
In His Mercy,
And providential time.
Our own close their ears
To the prophet at home
Or next door,
But no one knows
What God has in store.
"Place them here
With Me in the tabernacle,"
Whispers God to the heart.
"I’ll have the last word,
My Love to impart."
One generation to pray
For the next generation.
"All shall be well,
And all shall be well,
And all manner of thing
Shall be well." (Bl.Julianna of Norwich)
©2012 Joann Nelander
Darkness, fleeing at the approach of Promise,
Star bright and resplendent,
The Sun, illuminating the Virgin’s womb,
Making of it a palace
Fit for a king, a King of Kings.
Light bright angel,
Carrying her “Fiat” heavenward,
Enfolding humility, modesty and obedience,
In the gold of innocence and virtue.
Most High overshadowing,
Virgin most pure and lowly,
Conceiving by privilege,
Godhead and Son of Man.
© 2012 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 