#1
We have reinvented the world, the word
More pleasing to our eye
Now our God is weeping
We touch
We spoil
We justify
Our God is weeping
We have listened
To the Teacher
But have we understood?
Our sweet Lord is weeping
Even his disciples ask:
Teacher, what does this mean?
The Lord weeps constantly
Betrayed like every man
Till redemption comes.
#2
Crucifixes, betrayed, tossed in a cardboard box at the flea market, the debris of a life lived in the name of the Lord. They clatter like dead bones as young people rummage through them, flip them over; goths, artists, those who are not superstitious, look for inspiration, overlooking God.
“This cross for a necklace.”
“This one for a belt.”
“This one for my mantlepiece.”
“This one for a sculpture.” It´s a bit battered. The broken of chips of wood are still in the box. Nothing a bit of superglue can´t handle.
“If I had two the same, they´d make nice curtain holders.”
Salvaged, resurrected, given a new home, a new life, Christ welcomes their attention. He sees no sacrilege in their thoughts, no useless beauty that he must smash with his right hand.
Is it love?
Tis. They think they can get by without him, unaware that he has been with them all along. Now his foot is in the door.
Christ, in his own good time, can make something new of them, too.
#3
Lord, my lullaby
and my morning song
I praise the One who goes ahead me
Disentangling me from
The corruption of death
Making me new
A dress rehearsal for my eternity
You raise me, you heal me
I am fearfully, wonderfully made
Before long all that is not with you
Will go up in flames
And all your saints shall rise.
#4
Praise the Lord with all your heart
Praise is the Lord's due
Who gave his all, his life for you
Weep not his death, rejoice
He has given you every reason
Every promise he will keep
And lavish on you even more
From his throne
Whence he will steep
That we may rise from this wicked place
And 'fore the Father face-to-face
Kneel on the purple cushion
Of his abundant grace
Lord, the cross could not cross you at all
All you know is triumph
They thought with nails and thorns
To bring you down?
You were lifted higher!
Who says the tomb is empty
When in it still lingers the memories
The energy, the awe, the hope
That sacred space filled with our mutual yearning.
No more weeping.
Tell it from the mountains
Tell it across the seas
The lamb of God lives eternally
He who came for the children of Israel
Has come back for us all.
Come, children, come as you are, be of good cheer
Cry "Here I am!
To serve, to obey you
Holy lamb
Oh, blessed I forever be!"
--
(Dear fellow Murrelets. It has been such a joy to share this season of Lent with you all. Thank you for your stories. Thank you for your trust. May the resurrected Christ give you strength!)
— Ninny
We have reinvented the world, the word
More pleasing to our eye
Now our God is weeping
We touch
We spoil
We justify
Our God is weeping
We have listened
To the Teacher
But have we understood?
Our sweet Lord is weeping
Even his disciples ask:
Teacher, what does this mean?
The Lord weeps constantly
Betrayed like every man
Till redemption comes.
#2
Crucifixes, betrayed, tossed in a cardboard box at the flea market, the debris of a life lived in the name of the Lord. They clatter like dead bones as young people rummage through them, flip them over; goths, artists, those who are not superstitious, look for inspiration, overlooking God.
“This cross for a necklace.”
“This one for a belt.”
“This one for my mantlepiece.”
“This one for a sculpture.” It´s a bit battered. The broken of chips of wood are still in the box. Nothing a bit of superglue can´t handle.
“If I had two the same, they´d make nice curtain holders.”
Salvaged, resurrected, given a new home, a new life, Christ welcomes their attention. He sees no sacrilege in their thoughts, no useless beauty that he must smash with his right hand.
Is it love?
Tis. They think they can get by without him, unaware that he has been with them all along. Now his foot is in the door.
Christ, in his own good time, can make something new of them, too.
#3
Lord, my lullaby
and my morning song
I praise the One who goes ahead me
Disentangling me from
The corruption of death
Making me new
A dress rehearsal for my eternity
You raise me, you heal me
I am fearfully, wonderfully made
Before long all that is not with you
Will go up in flames
And all your saints shall rise.
#4
Praise the Lord with all your heart
Praise is the Lord's due
Who gave his all, his life for you
Weep not his death, rejoice
He has given you every reason
Every promise he will keep
And lavish on you even more
From his throne
Whence he will steep
That we may rise from this wicked place
And 'fore the Father face-to-face
Kneel on the purple cushion
Of his abundant grace
Lord, the cross could not cross you at all
All you know is triumph
They thought with nails and thorns
To bring you down?
You were lifted higher!
Who says the tomb is empty
When in it still lingers the memories
The energy, the awe, the hope
That sacred space filled with our mutual yearning.
No more weeping.
Tell it from the mountains
Tell it across the seas
The lamb of God lives eternally
He who came for the children of Israel
Has come back for us all.
Come, children, come as you are, be of good cheer
Cry "Here I am!
To serve, to obey you
Holy lamb
Oh, blessed I forever be!"
--
(Dear fellow Murrelets. It has been such a joy to share this season of Lent with you all. Thank you for your stories. Thank you for your trust. May the resurrected Christ give you strength!)
— Ninny
Thanks to you, too! Happy Easter!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ninny, for your writing throughout this Lenten season. Today I particularly appreciate #2 - tis love indeed. Easter blessings!
ReplyDeleteNinny, thank you for your calm, hopeful spirit throughout these, for the vulnerability of your offerings and the light that shines through them. I am so grateful. Blessed Easter to you. cw
ReplyDeleteThank you all for your encouragement. God bless you all!
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