You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

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You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

Love’s Reach

I reach for You
With my life,
All my life.

It is not for naught,
That You labored,
Bore my sins.

I reach for You
With my thoughts.
In the night,
I contemplate Your Dying.

Writhing in agony,
Alone with hell’s phantoms,
Blood called
From Your flesh.
More than a drop
Spoke my name.

Here in the dark,
The echo resounds,
Scatters my foes.

I reach for You
With my heart,
All my heart.

The scourge,
The nails,
The Cross,
Crown Your life,
Given for my life.

You reach out,
Nailed to Your Cross,
Stretched across the ages.
I am but one
Who feels Your Pain.

Your Passion reaches me,
Saves my life,
All my life.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

At My Death

At my death,
My kind and loving Jesus,
Friend and Savior of my soul ,
See again and always
My Baptism,
By and in which I entered
Into Your Divine Life,
As humble and grateful partaker,
Becoming priest, prophet, and king,
By the Victory and Resurrection
That is Yours,
And I now share.

Here, the Life giving Water
Of Your Father’s Plan
And Will for me,
Invited me into Your Death,
That I might live,
Another Christ,
By and in His Only Begotten Son,
By the Will of the Most Holy Trinity.

I will with all my heart,
“Amen”
To all you have done for me
In Your Passion and Death.

May this New Life,
That is Your embrace
Of all my life,
Nailed to the Cross,
That is Your Death
And ransom for my life,
Breathe New Life
Into my soul eternally.

At my death
Take to Yourself,
Your Own.

©2013 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

The Sword that Divides

Distilling the homily of Monsignor Raun:

The Sword that Divides

The Passion of the Christ,
The sword that divides.

There are Christians,
And then there is Everybody else.

Everybody else sees
An ignominious,
Shameful,
And a meaningless death.

The Christian sees the eternal Christ,
Saving those He calls,
Kings, prophets and priests.

The sword, the Spirit and the Cross,
At the crossroad
Of Heaven and the World.
The people of God,
The Kingdom of God,
Called while yet sinners.

© Joann Nelander 2013
All rights reserved

The Sword that Divides

Distilling the homily of Monsignor Raun:

The Sword that Divides

The Passion of the Christ,
The sword that divides.

There are Christians,
And then there is Everybody else.

Everybody else sees
An ignominious,
Shameful,
And a meaningless death.

The Christian sees the eternal Christ,
Saving those He calls,
Kings, prophets and priests.

The sword, the Spirit and the Cross,
At the crossroad of heaven and the World.
The people of God,
The Kingdom of God,
Called while yet sinners.

© Joann Nelander 2013
All rights reserved

Passion

Bloody sweat,
Pillar and scourge,
Bloody body,
Crown of thorn,
Bloody head,
Bloody face,
Hammer and nails,
Cross,
Bloody hands
Bloody feet,
Pain upon pain,
Thirst and abandonment,
Death and sword,
Broken heart,
Pierced heart,
Blood and Water,
All that Blood,
Washing me.

©2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reservedAll rights reserved

Passion-Deed

Lord, my tears are plentiful,
As I behold Thee in Thy rest.
Kneeling in poverty of spirit,
I am thrice blessed.

Your forever Union
With our Heavenly Father
Embraces me as the child,
That I am want to be,
Obedient, merciful and mild.

The Holy Spirit of God
Rests upon me,
Gifting me in sorrow for sin,
Raising me above the world,
And lifting me
To the lap of Abba Father,
With You, within.

Here in hallowed Presence,
My tears fall upon the garden,
You plant in my soul,
To water this consecrated plot
Replete with the promised fulfillment
That heals and makes me whole.

Already, but not yet,
Here in seed,
With You in Eternity,
Won by Cross and Passion-Deed.

©2012 Joann Nelander

My Prayer

Words are swirling

Like leaves,

Lifted heavenward,

On bursts of emotion,

Only to settle quietly,

As the storm of love  passes

Into Abiding Presence. 

 

© 2012 Joann Nelander

Passion of a Warrior

When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander
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