Jesus Christ | pictured words

SATURDAY

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Entombed in darkness –
and yet never extinguished.
The Light of the World.

(Marie E of Spun By Me: If you happen on this post of mine, I hope you don’t mind that I used your image. I had a very difficult time finding one with the stone still rolled in front of the tomb, to represent Holy Saturday. I also could not find a way to comment or contact you on your site to get permission to use the image. On a side-note, I found it of interest that your name is Marie E., as mine is as well [Marie Elena]. May God bless you.)

December 16, 2018

SACRED NIGHT

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In Bethlehem, did silent snow
fall soft upon a crèche,
that holy night when star aglow
announced God in the Flesh?

Although the chances may be slim
snow graced the Christ child’s birth,
it oft adorns Yule’s art and hymn,
as we fête Peace on Earth.

Perhaps it speaks of Spotless Lamb,
on silent, holy night —
Redeeming Gift of Great I Am,
reflecting Love’s Pure Light.

And though I may project snow dreams
on this most sacred eve,
I honor Babe whose love-light beams –
this One whom I believe.

6 Comments

November 25, 2018

SONLIGHT

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In darkness of cave
Defeater of Grave was born –
a King, unadorned.

In stillness of night,
as prophets did write, a birth –
the Light Of The Earth.

In grayness of sky
and depth of blue sigh, dear one,
delight in The Son.

2 Comments

November 11, 2018

MY WANDERING HEART

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“Bind my wandering heart to Thee.”
(From Robert Robertson’s hymn Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing)

MY WANDERING HEART

Lord, I need Thee every instant;
Need to feel my hand in Yours.
When I feel my heart grow distant,
Call me back to heaven’s shores.

Lord, I long for angel voices
Harmonizing all day through,
Triggering my soul’s rejoicing!
Set my heart to praising You!

Lord, that I won’t wander far,
Faint in faith, and unfulfilled,
Lift my eyes to Christ Child’s Star
Where my heart is awed, and stilled.

Lord, I need Thee every hour.
Give ear to my earnest plea:
Hug me in Your staying power.
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

3 Comments

August 10, 2018

NOTHING LOST

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As I embrace One who was slain,
and forfeit self,
what will I gain?
Eternal life in Christ is mine
not of my self,
but His design.
His agony, my boundless gain
corrupted self
cannot attain.
In death to self I gain no loss
my life secured
on Calvary’s cross.

“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?” ~ Luke 9:24-25.

2 Comments

March 30, 2018

The Bloodstained Cross (Sonnet for Simon of Cyrene)

Image credit: http://catholicinbrooklyn.blogspot.com/2013/03/meditation-on-fifth-station-of-cross.html

God’s word says little of this man: A Jew,
Pulled from the crowd to carry Jesus’ cross.
I wonder what he felt, and what he knew.
What ‘Jesus stories’ had he come across?

The Passover perhaps had drawn him there –
A dispersed Jew, returned to celebrate,
Who suddenly now had a cross to bear?
So little known. So much to speculate.

But he was there, as God had preordained,
And I can’t help but think that he was stirred,
To look into the eyes of one so maimed,
Still full of grace. God’s only Son. God’s Word.

Oh Simon, what an awe-inspiring role …
You touched the very blood that saved your soul.

3 Comments

December 24, 2017

A WOMAN, CALLED (Second Sonnet to Mary, Mother of God)

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And who would take my word, this pregnant teen,
Who claimed an angel visited my room,
To tell me God Himself had set the scene
To place His Very Son inside my womb?

And how could I say anything but “Yes,
Be done to me according to Your word.”
And how could I be anything but blessed,
When first The Living Word within me stirred.

And how was I to know that God’s own Son
Would start His life inside a feeding trough,
And end on crucifix (would anyone?),
Exploited, battered, bartered, “crowned,” and scoffed.

And when I think my womb shared blood with God,
Who gave me life? I’m humbled, blessed, and awed.

4 Comments

December 10, 2017

Extravagance of the season

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

The extravagance
of the season, embodied:
God, wrapped in infant.

October 18, 2017

JESUS, I BELIEVE YOU (Sonnet for The Son of Man)

Image credit: “Nail Pierced Hands of the Ultimate Superhero”

Conceived of virgin, launching life of strife.
In unpretentious setting, You were born.
You claimed to be The Way. The Truth. The Life.
Judged blasphemous, then kinged with crown of thorns.

They say a prophet goes unrecognized
In his or her own town … and this was You.
For there you were, distrusted and despised –
Not warranting the hatred that You drew.

Could they not see Your Father in Your face?
Were they not there to witness healing hands?
Were they not awed by one so full of grace?
Yet all was in accordance with Your plans.

My Jesus, I believe Your every word,
Which, only by Your grace, my ears have heard.

9 Comments

September 25, 2017

THIS I KEEP ON DOING (a sinner’s sonnet)

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

“For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do –
this I keep on doing.” ~ Romans 7:19

Like Paul, I do what I don’t want to do.
The best in me is shallow as a shoal,
That barely covers that which is askew.
An ugliness lies deep within my soul.

Too quick am I to judge and criticize.
This goes against my core belief; my creed.
I want to see my fellow man with eyes
That focus on their value and their need.

I give to Christ my own besetting sin
And ask Him to unseat its hiding place.
I beg of Him to change me from within –
Remove what doesn’t bolster love and grace.

For He alone can break through this façade
To commandeer the part that’s deeply flawed.