Engaging the Life of the Soul
A hunger for liberty, a desire
to walk in the light of what is known,
a taste for truth, willing to say
yes and no in equal measure,
these are the basic
ingredients in spiritual
formation.
to be shaped into a person who walks in the light of truth: this might be a good enough summary of the disciplined path that is spiritual formation — this poem appears in my book, Quiet Waters
Did Jonah write his name on the wall
of the belly of the whale,
leave his mark,
press his flesh into the immutable
will of God
in this time the Bible says
he was shut up—
to become who he really was?
Is there somewhere I need to do that: embrace
the will of God in a deeper, more inside-out
way along the path?
We can risk mistaking ourselves for limited human beings. But because we are created in the image of God and because He is the creator of all, including these truly beautiful, mystifying creatures called whales; and because the Bible is full of stories that stretch our limited understanding past marked political or philosophical boundaries, we can rejoice. We can relax. We can take pleasure knowing there is much more going on than we can possibly see, tell or explain. And so, we make our mark. We live our lives. And we don’t really know how big a splash that will make, do we? Until someone reads our story, and asks – what about that? This poem appears in my book, Quiet Waters.
A medicant beggar
in a town square, a medieval figure
seeks charity and finds when people
give him the time of day,
a dollar or sandwich to get by on, something
shifts in their eyes, their face:
they walk away, or sit for a while, changed, more
at home with being charitable—
with rising hope,
perhaps, there is another way
to live, to love in the light that shines
both on this man with the gentle voice
and the glass towers
around him that he draws them from
like so much water flowing, running
to the well
a historical reversal, a moment at the crossroads,
as faith seeks its centre, asks for what
it needs—
comes into the open.
There are people who humble us by the way they live their lives. Their simple acts. They way they approach ordinary tasks with extraordinary patience and awareness of what might matter in that moment; the way they connect from their core, with the world around them and bless it with God’s love by doing so. This poem celebrates that. You can find it in my latest book of poems, “Quiet Waters.”
There are stories in the Bible
that paint a picture with our name on it.
Timeless narratives help
ground us in the here and now, speak
to us directly.
When Joshua led the Israelites across the Jordan’s
dry bed, during flood season—amazing—
to battle for land God promised, and took
an extra 40,000 men who could handle a sword
(but were willing to leave their families and goods
behind, west of the river), it suggests
that when God gives a promise (politically correct
or otherwise, which, of course, today it wouldn’t be),
we will need to invest, battle
for what we are meant,
spiritually.
This poem appears in my latest work of poems called QUIET WATERS. Because there are times we need to dig deep, to unpack what we carry, to figure out where we’re going and who is with us, etc., to get to where we’re going–even in our seasons of wandering.
Simple unconditional love—puppy love some might say.
Relieved, we revel.
Soon we find, this love is strong, like a fortified city.
This is a love willing to, in agony,
atone for the pain in the world, remove
the agony.
Suddenly, the curtain is torn,
miraculously, from top to bottom,
the dead rise. And we fear, in our way,
the darkness of a tomb we do not understand
the meaning of. We wonder if this is where love has led us,
and prepare to honour the ritual
of burial.
Until Easter. Rejoice.
We are delivered of sorrow; can start a new life,
relieved, fresh each morning.
This poem that celebrates the LIGHT OF LIFE that shone so bright from the tomb that day, on EASTER MORNING, one of the happiest, brightest days of the church calendar-year, appears in my new book called QUIET WATERS. Because Christ’s work is for every day of our lives, our precious lives.