As we start Lent, a time to reflect and to offer ourselves as a living sacrifice, I’ve been pondering John’s Gospel. My aim during Lent is to share some poems based on this unique story of Jesus with John’s emphasis on union with God through the indwelling of Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
May your Lenten journey be filled with insight, wonder, and love.
Recently I came across a poem I wrote nearly 18 years ago to the day, just 10 days after I had moved to the UK. Part of me was sad I hadn’t found it when I was writing Finding Myself in Britain! But mostly I experienced a rush of poignancy, feeling for that person I was, so new to the UK and feeling stunned with the massive pruning I was undergoing. Everything seemed so strange and hard and different, and knowing that I was here to stay made me aware that I was going to have to send down roots and make this my home.
The poem is based on olive tree – mind you, I’d probably never yet even seen an olive tree – from Psalm 52:8–9: “But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever. I will praise you for ever for what you have done.”
A poem for Advent, celebrating the with-us-and-in-us God, based on Isaiah 7:14: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”
Today in my writing group video chat, I was introduced to the pantoum, a form of poetry I’d never heard of previously. With just 5 minutes of free writing, I created this, an evocative Advent poem:
Here we felt accepted; here we felt affirmed; here we felt known
The sky was dark
We waited in the car, shivering, while we waited for Mom
And off we went to church, us three kids waiting
The sky was dark
Saying the liturgy and singing the carols, all the time waiting
And off we went to church, us three kids waiting
And so we listened to the priest and we shuffled in our seats, waiting
Saying the liturgy and singing the carols, all the time waiting
We waited in the car, shivering, while we waited for Mom
And so we listened to the priest and we shuffled in our seats, waiting
Here we felt accepted; here we felt affirmed; here we felt known
This morning I’m digging into one of my favorite activities – writing some Bible reading notes. This will be a set for Inspiring Women Every Day, for the month of November 2015, on the theme of foreigners and strangers. After the Garden of Eden, we’re all strangers now. Here’s a little poem I wrote as I reflected on Psalm 137. Do you feel foreign?
Holy Week. I feel busy this week. Too busy. But I offer this poem that I wrote some years ago to remind myself to stop and consider the grand story of redemption being played out this week.
Advent is all about waiting for the coming of the Lord. Well, it’s supposed to be. I’ve now cleanly disposed of any and all of my good intentions this year, having started Advent already behind. I was going to do less – fewer cookies and decorations, more time in prayer and meditation. Nope, that didn’t last.
But God is with me. Even with my failed intentions and manic pace. In the early morning, when I wake, mind racing with my to-do list, I force myself off Facebook and emails and snatch a some moments to pray and read the Bible. I leave refreshed and hopeful. Reminded of God’s love and care.
Jesus came to earth. He’s with us. That’s the message of the season – a message I’m going to try to hold within my heart this day.
Zechariah as depicted by Michelangelo’ on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Photo by Missional Volunteer as found on flickr.
I leave you with a prose poem based on Zechariah’s song about his son, John. He who had been silent for months was filled with words that have remained for centuries.
Prepare the way for the Lord
He’s coming again
To earth; to our hearts
So that his people might know
Salvation
Lasting freedom
The forgiveness of sins
A clean slate
Wrongs put right.
Through God’s tender mercy
The rising sun comes
From heaven to earth
Shining through darkness
Illuminating our way.
Even in the shadow of death
He guides our feet
Into the path of peace.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Come, Lord
Come.
Based on Luke 1:76-79; Zechariah’s song about his son John
Recently I came across a poem I wrote nearly 18 years ago to the day, just 10 days after I had moved to the UK. Part of me was sad I hadn’t found it when I was writing Finding Myself in Britain! But mostly I experienced a rush of poignancy, feeling for that person I was, so new to the UK and feeling stunned with the massive pruning I was undergoing. Everything seemed so strange and hard and different, and knowing that I was here to stay made me aware that I was going to have to send down roots and make this my home.
The virgin will conceive
And give birth to a son
And call him Immanuel
God with us
God with us
Never to leave us
God in us
Transform us to new
And this will be a sign
The virgin will conceive
All will know he is God
A man and God a King
His name is Emmanuel
He is God with us
Not a God far away
But a God at hand
© 2014 Amy Boucher Pye
By the rivers we sat
By the water we wept
Water rushing by
Tears upon our face
Zion we remembered
Jerusalem, our home
On the trees our harps
No songs to sing
But our captors demanded
Our tormentors said to sing
“Sing us a song of Zion!”
“Sing us a song, now!”
But how can we sing?
How the songs of the Lord
In a foreign land?
How can we sing?
If we forget our home
May our tongues not move
Our highest joy, Jerusalem
With God, our home, at peace.
© 2015 by Amy Boucher Pye
O Jesus of Nazareth,
Thorns we twisted and turned
Upon your head we placed,
Crowning you King of the Jews.
Upon you we spat;
With a reed we struck your head.
Kneeling in homage, we mocked,
With our lips; with our hearts.
Crucified, we crucified,
Nailing you to the tree
Watching you whither and bleed
As darkness came over the land.
From deep you cried out,
Not at us, but to your Father:
“My God, my God, my God—
“Why have you forsaken me?”
Those words cut to the depth of our soul
Reverberating from within
We watched you breathe your last,
And the curtain was torn in two.
From what we have seen and heard,
Indeed, from what we have done,
We echo the words of the centurion,
That truly, the Son of God you are!
© 1999 Amy Boucher Pye
