Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.

Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.

Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.

You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.

Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.

Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.

On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.

New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.

Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.

If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.

Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.

By Joann Nelander

Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.

Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.

Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.

You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.

Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.

Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.

On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.

New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.

Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.

If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.

Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.

By Joann Nelander

Prayer and the Indwelling Christ

Your gaze have made it very easy,
praying that is.
Yet, for such as me,
it’s still very hard,
not seeing You across the table.

Your eyes follow me.
I know You hear me.
“It’s not You, it’s me”,
as faulting lovers say.

Your gaze never leaves me,
I can feel it
in the depths of my being.
I am never alone.

You wait,
as I turn to trifles,
or beat down troublesome giants.
You dwell upon my last words,
feeling my joy or pain
through every season of my soul.

Though my words can stop mid-sentence
or conversation cease,
still You know the whole.
With the patience of eternity, my God waits.

Eventually, I turn back to You.
Your eyes sear my soul,
O, that my heart could return that gaze.

On the best of days,
unless You bind me to You, I flit.
A thousand trumpets vie for my ear
and I am torn.

New love has a magic,
erasing the world, and becoming all.
Re-ignite that flame in me
To shut out causes, fears and strife.

Your Presence felt is strength and consolation,
Your tug is joy
and Your conversation sweetness.
If pain be the messenger
that draws me back to You,
so be it.
Better the torment of an earthly purgatory
than the foretaste of hell.

If it seems I sit at our table alone,
the note of sadness betrays the truth.
I miss you and the missing is from You.
You beckon anew.

Sup with me.
Dwell with me.
Gaze on me.
I am not alone.
My Christ is with me.

By Joann Nelander

On Creation and Choice

The promised Savior was to be
-the cause of the fall of many
-the cause of the rise of many
-a sign of contradiction.

Who is Jesus for you?

On Creation and Choice

 

Adam, in his being and becoming,
Broke the rule of Love,
Served self,
That had not created itself,
Nor could sustain itself,
But chose to choose itself.

Ultimate folly,
Calling forth endless Mercy.
Adam, progenitor of a race,
A race,
Born to the folly of its father,
Snatched from the choice of death.

Adam and his seed,
Given again a choice,
The Law broken;
“Choose life that you may live”,
A grace of Spirit to recognize the Son,

Adam, the one man,
Containing in his loins a race,
Given, one by one,
Each a mystery of Grace,
Each in his time,
In the expansion of space,
Free to choose.

Gift of the Son,
Redemption conquering Death,
A choice for each one,
Folly forever wrapped in the self,
Or Life to be lived,
In the Creator Father,
In the Savior Son,
In the Spirit One.

True Freedom, Redemption.
Free choice to choose to be redeemed,
For the Son,
By the Son,
In the Son,
By the Death,
Of the Son.

Copyright 2016 Joann Nelander

Adam, the one man,
In his being and becoming,
Created, a creature among creatures,
Progenitor of our race,
Chosen and destined to be
For the Son,
By the Son,
In the Son,
Of the Son.

Grace, all grace,
Count it all grace.
The work of Salvation,
Raising the dust of the earth,
To the stuff of heaven and eternity.

One Word,
Outside of Time,
Spoken and containing all,
One Thought,
Outside of Space,
Formed in the Heart of God,
Without matter,
Brought forth matter,
Flung by limitless power,
To obey a law of Love.

With the simplicity of nothing,
He wrote the stuff of galaxies and dimension,
And in time, entered Time, Himself,
To lead us to our end,
Our rest.

Adam, in his being and becoming,
Broke the rule of Love,
Served self,
That had not created itself,
Nor could sustain itself,
But chose to choose itself.

Ultimate folly,
Calling forth endless Mercy.
Adam, progenitor of a race,
A race,
Born to the folly of its father,
Snatched from the choice of death.

Adam and his seed,
Given again a choice,
The Law broken;
“Choose life that you may live”,
A grace of Spirit to recognize the Son,

Adam, the one man,
Containing in his loins a race,
Given, one by one,
Each a mystery of Grace,
Each in his time,
In the expansion of space,
Free to choose.

Gift of the Son,
Redemption conquering Death,
A choice for each one,
Folly forever wrapped in the self,
Or Life to be lived,
In the Creator Father,
In the Savior Son,
In the Spirit One.

True Freedom, Redemption.
Free choice to choose to be redeemed,
For the Son,
By the Son,
In the Son,
By the Death,
Of the Son.

Copyright 2016 Joann Nelander

Dying – The Most Important Thing You Will Do in Life

Patrick Madrid said, “Dying is the most important thing you will do in life.”

 

 

 

 

 

God Speaks to the Soul

God Speaks to the Soul