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Longing to heal the ugliness in others,
I find my only weapon may be
My own acceptance of my acceptance
In the beloved.
Help me, Father, to express my trust
In You and in Your reconstructive
Work around me by embracing
Your delight in me.
jmc 4/11/12


(C. S. Lewis The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Lucy’s gift from Father Christmas)

Broken wounded hearts
Stars seemingly numberless
He knows all their names

jmc 1-30-2011

This is the second part in my repost of a previous poem.

Before He took the final steps of His journey to the cross, Jesus had spent a great deal of time teaching His disciples what to expect. But they didn’t get it. Not even when He performed the amazing miracle showcased by John in chapter 11 of his account of Christ’s life on earth, not even when He performed that greatest of all miracles He had performed so far, not even then did they imagine in their wildest dreams what He was trying to tell them. Not even then were they even able to imagine the promise He was making to them. I don’t blame them for their lack of understanding. I have a hard time comprehending it myself–I who have read the whole story and know the ending–I have a hard time comprehending the promise of resurrection when staring hideous DEATH in the face. But Easter calls us to remember. And to remember than right before that amazing miracle which foreshadowed the greatest miracle of all time–right before He changed the fabric of space and time for the grieving family, as He met grief and anguish wreaked by DEATH, Jesus–God Himself–wept. It’s ok to cry.

Resurrection?

Rising from the dead?
Just doesn’t happen
Impossible
So improbable that our minds
Cannot conceive the thought:
“Your brother will rise again.”
“Yes, Lord, someday he will
when life as we know it
comes to an end and
You make all things new.”
“I AM the Resurrection
and the Life,” You reply;
and, though my mind believes,
my heart still cries:
“Lord, if You had been here,
My brother would not have died!”
I cannot help but weep.
And You weep, too—
You, who are Life itself,
Weeping over Death.
I know by Your weeping
that You loved him, too:
that Death can touch Your heart,
divine though You may be.
Perhaps Divinity is wounded
more by Death than is Mortality.
And for this moment,
once again, Death
trumps Victory.
And so we weep together.
What comes next?

“Where have you laid him?”

The rain came again last night
Not strong and calm—benevolent,
But erratic and terrible
As though the heavens themselves
Were torn with paroxysms
Of grief

The rain came again last night,
Leveling young stalks of corn
In its throes of woe,
Gentle weeping giving way
To wracking sobs, finding
No relief

JMC Thursday, June 3, 2010

Daddy, something isn’t right today.
I’d tell You if I knew just what it was.
If I knew, I’d run to You, sobbing out my woe
Or spread it out before You, talk it over,
Trusting that You’ll fix it,
Taking from You the power, the strength
To live despite the brokenness,
The knowledge and wisdom to live within its sphere.
I’d leave it with You and step out
Confidently–confident in You, confident
In what You’ve told me, confident because
We’ve talked it out.

Daddy, something’s just a little wrong today,
But I can’t put my finger on just what!
A monster ‘neath my bed or in my closet?
A lingering headache, cold, or flu?
A bruise? A broken friendship?
A gaping hole, invisible, in the fabric of space and time?
Am I sensing someone else’s pain?
Or is it mine?
You’re so big and wise, I’m sure You’ve seen
Already what it is–before I even have the words to know.
Please let me snuggle down with You to watch
Until You show me. Your nearness
Gives me confidence in facing the unknown.

2-8-2010

Oh, God of dust and rainbows, help us see That without dust the rainbow would not be. ~ Langston Hughes

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