Pray as you go – Acts of the Apostles

Short retreat on the Acts of the Apostles

God on the Horizon

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 is put to bed
‘Neathe a cloak of many colors,
Finally, dimming their voices
In lullabys 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

Old Barns and Old People

Desire

How may I bring delight,

How may I gladden Thee?

Make me as music,
Playing unto my God,
In the silence of Thy Tomb.

Make me as roses,
Placed upon Thy pierced Breast,
As death silenced Thy heart.

Make me as lilies,
Opening in the Light,
Of Thy Resurrection glory.

Make me as bread in Thy Sacred Hands,
Becoming Thy Body,
To satisfy Thy hunger for souls.

Make me as wine in a chalice,
Becoming Thy Blood,
To quench Thy thirst for those in sin.

Make me as a Banquet,
Calling the hungry,
To Thy Table in repentance.

Make me as a river,
Flowing from Thy wounded Heart,
Joining Thy streams of Mercy.

Gather my desires to please Thee,
As flowers plaited as a crown,
To set upon the head of my Beloved.

© 2017 Joann Nelander

Seeming

Seeming

Lord, you pass by.
A sea of hands reach for You.
Straining to its end,
Determined, one hand, truly, seems all Heart.

You pass, seeming out of reach.
From Heaven the Father sees,
And satisfies the soul’s desire.
“Who touched me?”, says the Son.

© 2017 Joann Nelander

Islam’s “Human Rights”

 

Islam’s “Human Rights”

by Janet Tavakoli

  • No intelligent government