Jesus

Do You Love Me?

/ joethewaller / 1 Comment

Despite his good intentions, promises,
And passion, Peter three times failed his Lord,
And though his doubts were not like Thomas’s,
He fled at costs he thought he could afford.
Back to the boats, the nets, the fish, the sea.
He’d tried another life, sought something more,
And made a wreck of it. Could there still be
A place among the faithful? Then from shore,
A voice familiar called, harkening back
To early days of hope and ignorance.
He asked of the supply and knew the lack,
But then he spoke, and all was providence,
For his is love no shame can e’er efface
That meets great sin with more abundant grace.

Photo by Dave Herring on Unsplash

Questions and Answers

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One asked, “Why do you think of me?” in awe.
He saw the stars, the heavens, and was filled
With holy fear, in wonder at the law
At work within the world. It left him stilled.

One asked, “Why do you think of me?” and wept
At losses greater than a man should know.
Accused but innocent, this one was kept
Alive to cry to heav’n from hell below.

One said, “Do this. Remember me,” and broke
The bread for broken questioners and poured
A cup for all the thirsty as he spoke
Of death and life and suff’ring and reward.

The third knows well the two, the joy, the strife.
Encompassed in his knowing is his life.

Photo by Jonny Gios on Unsplash

Day 18: Harmattan

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In life, we’re met with gentle breezes, signs
That life is full of movement. Summer heat
Is broken by a cool front, and the pines
Carpet the earth with needles, catching sweet-
Est melodies as wind sings through their limbs.
But not all winds blow gently. Some appear
With power unapproachable, like hymns
Writ out of holy fear: we turn the ear
And close the mouth. We know our smallness well
Before the hurricane and Harmattan,
And like the sailors frightened by the swell,
We run for help to power’s paragon,
The man who has become our hope and peace,
The God in flesh who makes the storm-winds cease.

Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash

Mercy, Grace, and Love

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I have known hope and known despair,
The warming and the chilling air,
And I have found that you are there
With mercy, grace, and love.

I have succeeded and have failed,
Have waited patiently, have railed
‘Gainst you, who held me e’en when veiled,
With mercy, grace, and love.

I’ve witnessed victory and loss,
The finest paint, the cheapest gloss,
And o’er it all still stands the cross
In mercy, grace, and love.

So should my path lead up or down,
To unknown name or world renown,
Remind me that you wear the crown
With mercy, grace, and love.

Photo by Hillie Chan on Unsplash

Easter Sunday

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Another quiet Sunday afternoon.
Still filled with fears and questions, but I know
Your stories take their time, so maybe soon
The way will be revealed, and I will go.
Till then, I wait and think about that morn
That guaranteed our hope, the end of night
At his rekindled light, when all the scorn
Seemed scant as those two Marys caught the sight
Of resurrection, life born out of death.
Their hope and joy once buried was renewed.
Their Jesus breathed with deep undying breath.
Forevermore, the darkness is subdued.
At last, the weight of ages finds release.
After the darkest day, unending peace.

Photo by J Lee on Unsplash

Holy Saturday

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Another day, another coffee shop,
Longing for resurrection, wondering
If they knew they were waiting, that the stop
Was long expected, that the thundering
Was temporary. Could they fathom hope
Persisting past the ending of the dream?
Was life from death a long-forgotten trope?
Was this beyond God’s power to redeem?
Or worse, was this his will? Could they not see,
Deceived by words so many had refused,
Tricked by the man—for man he seemed to be?
Others were healed, but he died bloodied, bruised.
The silent tomb was sealed. What would they do?
Was anything they once believed still true?

Photo by Anandu Vinod on Unsplash

Christmastime

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A season for the memory of birth
Against the backdrop of a world of death.
A promised king of everlasting worth
In swaddling cloths, now taking his first breath.

A season for the sparkling of light
In contrast to the darkness of these days,
Reflections of the angel’s sign that night,
The hope of rest beyond all holidays.

A season for the fellowship of friends,
For reconciling wrongs and all division,
All rooted in the love that never ends
And growing up into the heav’nly vision.

A season for the change of old to new.
A season for the stories ringing true.

Photo by Wesley Tingey on Unsplash

Light Remains

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God said, “Let there be light,” and so it was.
And thus it has continued to this day.
Night threatens darkness, but it never does
Persist. The deepest shadow fades away.

God said, “Let there be Light.” A Son was born,
And truth and beauty shone throughout the land.
Self-blinded men loved death, but still the morn
Arrived. Christ rose and raised dry bones to stand.

God said, “Let there be light,” and I could see
As love cut through all lies with things more true.
My love is weak. He knows and still calls me
His own. The old has passed, and I am new.

We have this hope when grieved by present pains:
When God shines light in darkness, light remains.

Photo by Dyu – Ha on Unsplash

When I Look Back

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When I look back, I do not see successes.
At least, I do not see them easily.
Instead, I see a mind that second-guesses
And find that failure fits more feasibly.
When I look back, I do not see your mercies,
Or seeing them, still feel they are not true.
All good seems covered up in controversies,
In all the ways I failed and still fail you.
When I look back, I see the circumstances
That roll like waves across a wind-swept sea.
I do not see the Son, the second-chances,
The grace that still abounds for those like me.
When I look back, I must distrust the lies
That claim truth is determined by my eyes.

Photo by Will Swann on Unsplash