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 historical reversal, a moment at the crossroads,
as faith seeks its centre, asks for what
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.”
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,
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
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
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.