Advent 2016: Broken; Healing

The world is broken:
I felt it in the hearts of a nation

     who put their hopes in leaders.

Yet we heed people like us:
wicked, prideful, and vain.

Fools - we reject the righteous

for conniving campaigns.

The world is broken:

I heard it in the cries of a family

     lamenting a loss.

They dress in the weight of

emptiness: a massive thing.

Absence ne'er becomes native - 

The world isn't answering.

The world is broken:

I saw it in the eyes of a mother

    who never met her child.

But Spring oft follows death;

The womb can be filled again.

Movement of God's own breath:

Hope of young eyes opened.

The world is healing:

I know it in the hay of a manger,

    cooing at the beasts surrounding.

Born sinless (unlike me),

the Christ-Child come to Earth

to spread good news as ivy:

Through him, there is second birth.

The world is healing:

I know it on the tongues of the Church

     praising their God and King.

We may lose child or friend

and mourn with great comfort,

knowing the King with no end

who, for our sake, suffered.

Confident They Were Created

Rolling hills -

rolling me home.

The soft curves of land

comforting in their beauty and ease.

I slip through

to my hometown,

eager to settle back down.

Confident they were created

for me.

Or I for them.

The joy of the Creator

rooted in each graceful

peak and valley.

Suffering for Joy: Easter 2016

Friday's glory realized:
Sunday, the King claims his prize!
The lashes opened doors;
We see what suff'ring's for.

Drew yourself close to vile man,
suffered at his sinning hands,
laid your life down for a short time
but with the strength to rise again.

Guilty mocked your triumphant death
and cheered your releasing breath.
Yet for your joy you endured
that we may praise our sin's Cure.

What glory in your resolve!
The chains of death dissolved
by Savior, Christ. Blood shed for sin -
He'll have the joy set before him!

Christ, you found and perfect me,
part of a world returning.
In your strength and witness,
remove my sin and weakness.

My Suffering, Your Suffering: Good Friday 2016

Where have you gone, my Lord?
Don't you hear me in dischord
hoping to hear your voice?
Some peace and I'll rejoice.

No. My heart sinks like stone
and I'm sick to my bones.
Do I suffer in vain?
Can you hear my soul strain?

You show me your stained brow,
crested with my mocking crown.
You let me dig the thorns in tight;
I cheered with scoffers at the sight.

Why lay down your life on that tree?
Why endure such hostility?
I'm vile: dirt before holy eyes!
There must be a reason for your demise...