Redeemer | pictured words

My place atop the Christmas tree
may seem a lofty place for me,
but humbly, I point down below
through greenery and lights aglow
to manger scene that holds the Christ
who paid the price in sacrifice
for every woman, man, and child –
this perfect Lamb – this undefiled
Rescuer, Redeemer, God
I represent, and richly laud.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

Written in response to Walt Wojtanik’s prompt at Poetic Bloomings to write about Christmas from the point of view of an inanimate object. If you look closely, you can see the cross that tops my Christmas tree.

April 17, 2021

Untitled 17-syllable “waiting” poem

“Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.” ~ Jesus Christ of Nazareth (Luke 23:34)

Tortured at their hands,
my Messiah didn’t wait
for apologies.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 17 – Writer’s Digest (Day 17: Write a Waiting poem.)

April 4, 2021

HE IS RISEN!

Pondering the blood-drenched tree
There but for His mercy, me
Tear-stained face, I bow the knee
Hallelujah! He is risen!

Low, for me His blood was drained
Love entombed, yet not contained
Absolution, as ordained
Hallelujah! He is risen!

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2013

10 Comments

April 2, 2021

AND I (ode to John the Beloved)

The last twenty four hours –
bearer of agonizing anguish
and hideous horror.
Had I known what was to come,
I would have stayed away –
far away
from you.

And I
would have safeguarded myself
from this enslaving loss.
I would have listened
to your compelling lessons –
your world-altering truths.
But I would have kept my distance

… and I,
I would have sat not at your feet,
but the foot of the hill.
I’d have sought your perfect rest,
but not at your breast.

And I can’t think of Judas
and how you knew. You knew.
And how Peter did just as you said –
denied you.
Three times denied you,
and I …
I wouldn’t have believed it.

The others you called,
scattered.
Frightened.
Confused.
Afraid for their lives, perhaps.
And I, myself, afraid.

But the women … oh,
the women …
how they were there for you today
along Golgotha’s way!
They wiped your wounded face
listened to your howls of pain
watched your mother’s horror
wailed
until your life left
and your silence spilled.

But the women remained
(chained to image and sound
that will never be loosed)
– produced a ceaseless cry.

The women,

and I.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 2: Write a What does the future hold poem).

4 Comments

April 10, 2020

THE WOMEN WHO WAILED

I wish I knew who to attribute this to.

Who were these women,
walking the path with Jesus,
this innocent man?

This One who showed them
they were not to be trampled –
thought as second class.

This One who showed them
they could learn and understand
scripture, and His words.

Who were these women
who did not turn away as
He was crucified?

Exhibiting strength
in their engulfing anguish –
strength I cannot know.

Facing the horror,
these women were not silent.
They howled in their grief,

but also in their
denunciation of this
slaughter of virtue.

Inconsolable,
but not without perception,
and not without hope.

As they witnessed His
final words, were they surprised?
This man that they loved

wasn’t just a man.
Even the centurion
who observed His death

exclaimed, “Certainly
this man was the Son of God.”
My Lord, and My God.

Through their mourning eyes,
did they sense that this dear man
was their Messiah?

Forgive me, my Lord.
I would not have had the strength
to attend to You.

Lamentably, I’d
have worried, crying to You
from my peaceful home,

averse to falling
apart with the sufferer.
(Forgive me, my friends).

2 Comments

March 30, 2020

HOPE, FULFILLED

Image by jplenio, courtesy of Pixabay

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.” From the hymn The Heavenly Vision, by Helen Howarth Lemmel

HOPE, FULFILLED (may be sung)

Dear writer, your hymn born of life’s woes
through blindness and heartache, composed,
gives name to our risen Messiah,
His purpose on earth to disclose.

Turn our eyes to You, Jesus –
Redeemer, Messiah, and Friend.
Give us ears to hear; give us sight to see
that through You, we’re no longer condemned.

Redemption is ours in Christ Jesus,
His death restored life to our soul.
This Sinless One bore our transgressions,
And these “not in part, but the whole.”

Turn our eyes to You, Jesus –
Redeemer, Messiah, and Friend.
Give us ears to hear; give us sight to see
that through You, we’re no longer condemned.

No need to be summoning hope now.
No need to have courage instilled.
No need for our guilt to oppress us,
for Christ is our promise, fulfilled.

Turn our eyes to You, Jesus –
Redeemer, Messiah, and Friend.
Give us ears to hear; give us sight to see
that through You, we’re no longer condemned.

1 Comment

December 18, 2019

CHRISTMAS’S ONLY PERFECT GIFT

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If one knew not what Christmas was about,
it seems that they’d find little evidence
of Jesus Christ. Not much to make them doubt
the countless signs of our greed’s eminence.

The season focuses on “perfect” gifts,
beginning in our early childhood.
Our storefronts mostly offer toys and glitz,
all tempting us to spend more than we should.

It’s not that I’m a “humbug.” Truly, not.
But when I’m home from shopping, my heart warms.
My focus shifts from things that I have bought,
to what I wish were more the season’s norms.

A Christmas flag portrays Christ’s holy birth.
A swaddled Baby rests in bed of straw:
This One Who Saves, through whom we have our worth,
Whose sinless life fulfilled for us God’s law.

The manger scene glows warm beneath my tree,
while Santa makes his presence known nearby –
his hat removed, head bowed, on bended knee,
in humble awe. Let God be glorified!

Let’s celebrate the birth of God’s own Son.
In Him, our full redemption has been won!

December 15, 2019

GOD BLESSED US, EVERY ONE

Image credit: Pixabay

Can we be thankful
for that which we aren’t aware
we’ve even received?

Yet God has blessed us,
every one of us, with
His very own Son,

leaving the glory
of heavenly realms aside,
born of a virgin

in humblest of means,
crying with the bleating sheep,
and braying donkeys.

No silent night, this,
yet holy, miraculous,
and liberating.

A virgin woman
bore this “for unto us” Child
in obedience

to the very God
Who chose her to give life to
the Giver of Life.

She named Him Jesus.
He who had no beginning –
Who was here before

the world’s foundation –
the Co-Creator of all –
became a newborn.

He grew in wisdom,
and did only that which His
Father told Him to.

His Father gave Him
all things, and left our judgement
in His holy hands.

We are guilty, all.
But the Father made a way:
His name is Jesus.

God gave His own Self
in the Person of the Son
to redeem the lost.

We are all the lost,
falling short of God’s glory.
But now He sees us

through the saving grace
of The One who redeemed us
on Calvary’s cross.

So I ask again:
Can we be thankful for that
which we aren’t aware

we’ve even received?
Jesus Christ died once, for all.
Many witnessed it.

And many witnessed
also His resurrection
from that very death –

the death that was ours.
He gifted us with His love,
and His saving grace.

Know Him, and know this:
God sanctified us. God blessed
us, every one.

2 Comments

May 4, 2019

SHE CALLS HERSELF AN ADDICT

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I suppose when cravings for poison
introduced in past moments of pain
threaten to pull you to ocean’s floor
and you remember the relief of
oxygen to your lungs,
you might find it irresistible, this temptation to
breathe –

even if it is one breath.
Even if it threatens
to fill your lungs with death.

But she –
she would rather not breathe

than return to the venom her body craves.
She would rather hold her breath,
while waiting for her Redeemer
to meet her in the depths.
To lift her face.
To breathe life to her very soul.

She calls herself an addict.

I call her a child of the God who Saves.
I call her brave.
I call her inspiring.

I call her friend.

6 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

pictured words

Tag: Redeemer

December 19, 2021

CROSS OF CHRIST

April 17, 2021

Untitled 17-syllable “waiting” poem

April 4, 2021

HE IS RISEN!

April 2, 2021

AND I (ode to John the Beloved)

April 10, 2020

THE WOMEN WHO WAILED

March 30, 2020

HOPE, FULFILLED

December 18, 2019

CHRISTMAS’S ONLY PERFECT GIFT

December 15, 2019

GOD BLESSED US, EVERY ONE

May 4, 2019

SHE CALLS HERSELF AN ADDICT

March 30, 2018

The Bloodstained Cross (Sonnet for Simon of Cyrene)