Tag Archives: Jesus

With Veronica

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With Veronica,
I want to bathe Your Wounds.
Time and place are no obstacle.
You, in eternity, possess all.
Possess my heart,
And my poor intentions,
Render them pure and holy.

Wiping the spittle from Your Adorable Face,
I weep at Your disfigurement at the hands of Man.
I, in my time and turn, have looked away.
Here, with You, in prayer,
I turn back,
That my present ministries
May touch Your Body,
Alive, suffering in purgation,
Battling with the help of Heaven on Earth,
And triumphant with our Father in glory.

Mysteriously, my wounds,
And warts are healed,
My misery comprehended and mended,
By Your merciful gaze,
My shame surrendered,
And supplanted,
With your look of Love.

With Veronica,
I reach out,
Only to receive back,
My dignity,
I stoop,
To rise with You,
My Hope,
True Image of Our Father’s Love.

©2015 Joann Nelander

* The Latin meaning of the name Veronica is “True Image” (vera icon)

Resting, Silent

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virginofvladimir1

Virgin of Vladimir by the hand of JOANN NELANDER

n silence I wait, silent.
Thanksgiving and praise have created the dome about me,
As angels carry their worshipful sound
And sing my song before the Throne of God.
I am implicitly carried with their melody,
Hidden in the words playing before my God.

The Gates open to admit my presence.
I enter, bowing low,
And I am lifted on high.
Kissing the cheek of my Savior,
I wrap my arms about His Neck,
As He on earth,
Loving embraced His virginal Mother
With an all holy and forever Love.

I rest in Your Sabbath Rest,
Gathering strength for the storm,
That Your Triumph may rain down blessing,
To make all days Your Day.

Here in silence, You whisper.
And, yet, is it not, the glorious and triumphal Shout?
Reign, my Savior and King, in your little ones
Longing for You and the Eternal Rest.

Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander

God on the Horizon

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Lord, I rejoice to hear Your Voice
Echoing in my soul.
Through Your Word,
I have come to recognize that Voice
Even amidst the chaos of the world.

“Come to Me”
“Do not be afraid”
“Stand firm”
“Your God is in your midst. ”

Heaven sings “My Lord” on the horizon.
Spanning the day with Your herald,
Coming forth with the
dawn,
His notes color the firmament
In a symphony of splendor.
Playing with hues
As with a pipe organ,
He pulls out the stops in promise,
Until he captures the morn and subdued it.

Making it His own
In the mystery of You, O Lord.
He whispers to listening hearts,
“You are the Light of the world”

With eventide He strides
As Day’s work done.
Then God calls home the Sun.
But not without a closing hoorah.
As over hill and dale,
He paints for fun,
And angelic artists
Shout His blazing Glory.

All put to bed
‘Neathe a cloak of many colors,
Finally, dimming their voices
In lullabies of peace
To sleep in childlike slumber,
Save for He, Who slumbers not.

God on the horizon,
Sun to sun,
Labor swallowed up in trust,
To await His Coming
In both darkness and the dawn,
All my life long.

©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

Your Face

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Your Face

You sought solitude and prayer.
In silence, I seek You.

You sought communion with Your Father
I long to see His Face.

You, my Jesus, are that Holy Face.
I set You before the eyes of my heart.

Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander

The Lord’s Joy

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The Lord’s joy
Is my strength.
He persuades my heart
By gentleness.
His mercy is a fountain
Of inner mirth,
Springing up in all seasons,
To temper my sorrow,
To pour oil into my wounds,
To salt my friendships
And to delight the Father,
Who sees me
Running after His Son,
And dancing with David’s abandonment.

May I be the dimple
In Your smile,
Appealing as the uplifted arms
Of a child,
And the innocent sleep
Of a baby.

Gladness be my swaddling,
That You may
Impart to me
The power the weak
Have to touch
The Heart of God,
Accepting always
His Loving will.

Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander

Weaned Child

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I am the weaned child,
Upon Your knee.
Forgetful of time,
I curl Your hair about my fingers,
And tug at Your heartstrings.

My toys, the shiny objects of yesterday,
Lie by the stairs,
By which I began my ascent to You.

Comfort me.
Cuddle me.
Tickle me.

You spend Your universe,
As You had always planned,
Delighting one so small,
The least of the Children of Man.

© 2012 Joann Nelander