As we approach the most glorious time in the Christian’s calendar, I’ll post some poems I have written on the subject. The first is in response to the Word that tells us Jesus still bears the wounds in His body (He showed them to the disciples when He appeared to them). The second is because we are told He is constantly interceding for us. I hope you enjoy it.
HOLY WOUNDS
Oh, to think that I, with all my stains of darkness
Could stand before a God of white-hot holiness
And not be burned.
What holy wounds that gain for me
An entrance to the King!
For Christ in all his glory, stays injured still for me
His hands and feet, though brilliant bright
Stay pierced and raw through all my sin
And plead each day my cause.
For as I sin, and blot my soul, and then repentant come
His Father from His awesome throne
Looks down and sees his Son.
He sees His Son take on my guilt and then it’s penalty
As 2020 draws to a close, there’s hardly cause to welcome 2021 with any sort of joyful anticipation.
Many, suffering ‘lockdown fatigue’ are being more lax about the precautions set in place to stop the spread of Covid 19, and infections are soaring. In a malevolent twist, the virus has taken advantage of this and mutated to a more virulent form. Death, suffering, bereavement and fear are trampling our planet.
Until this year, Christmas, for many, has merely been a prelude to welcoming the New Year. Perhaps God is urging us, now, to focus on the real reason we celebrate, for if we do that, we can look to the future with optimism.
If God can be compassionate enough to come to earth and identify with us to the extent that He feels our pain, shares our joys, demonstrates the true heart of God and then represents us before the Father to take our punishment, He will surely see us through this turbulent time if we will entrust ourselves into His loving, capable hands.
So, let’s celebrate the real Christmas story, and let the Prince of Peace speak into our hearts.
Real Christmas
God gave His Son that all the world Would have the chance to be with Him. His glorious presence now was curled Within the confines of a womb.
His gift to Man took history And pulled its course away from Hell Unfathomable mystery A love that has no parallel.
And now to celebrate His gift Throughout the world we also give, With presents for our families With parties, food and talk of love.
Yet often in this crazy world We give our gifts, not knowing why We break the bank to buy the best We worry it won’t satisfy.
We party with our families We eat and drink and stay up late But if in this we exclude Him There’s nothing left to celebrate.
It all becomes an empty show That merely gets us deep in debt And all the feasting and the hype Can’t heal our pain, nor our regrets.
For though we share our human love Forget our woes with food and wine Our loneliness requires a heart That’s grateful for a love divine.
We need to know a God who cares Who wants us all to worship Him To celebrate the way He’s made To rescue us from all our sin.
If we party, give our gifts Ignoring Him who’s paid the way Then ‘Happy Christmas’ is just words Whose meaning fades with Boxing Day
For always when we celebrate A God who came to be with us The next act hovers in the wings A Saviour hanging from a Cross.
It’s He who rolled away the stone Conquered death and rose again Ascended to His heavenly throne And lives within the hearts of men
It’s not His birth that gives us joy But why He came — what it was for That’s why we’re grateful, celebrate The Baby on a bed of straw
At this time of the year we are used to seeing the Babe in the manger. It is always a time when we can be thrilled with the wonder of it all.
Yet, think of it beforehand. Think of the Holy Foetus attached to Mary’s womb, gaining succour from a placenta that was to become the afterbirth. This is God? That tiny, budding life? How amazing is that?
Then, think of the wonder beyond the stable and the Babe to the Man, the very Word of God, who spoke all He walked amongst into being. Now he debates with sceptics and arrogant men of learning, allowing them to deride Him, mock Him and scorn His words that came from the same mouth that created them.
And the wonder goes on through Calvary, the empty tomb and the free gift of eternal life offered, incredibly without any obligation to accept it.
We do, indeed have an amazing God.
Amazing
The body of God Forming slowly A clump of cells A tiny brain Eyes Fingers Mouth Cord, placenta God, two inches long Drawing nourishment from Mary Amazing.
The Word of God Speaking light Speaking earth Speaking sea And stars The moon Lilies of the field And man Speaking all of creation into being Now debating with sceptics Contradicted Ignored Vilified Amazing
The love of God Selfless Giving Healing Joyous love Exploited Doubted Denied Nailed to a Cross And there, fully expressed Amazing
The blood of God Falling to the ground Earth-shattering Veil-splitting Blood A scarlet ribbon Rippling through eternity Buying freedom For you For me Changing history Letting the eyes of God Meet mine And yours, if you will Amazing
The power of God Life-giving Stone-moving Heaven-opening Glorifying Power Available to all who believe Amazing
Free choice for man A gift from God Setting his destiny Light Or darkness Loneliness Or comfort Life Or death God’s favour Or wrath God lets us choose Respects our choice
Choose light Comfort Life Choose God And stand amazed
Here I am again, back to the familiar where nothing’s
changed. I see I left a shirt on the bed and crockery drip-drying by the sink.
It seems incredible that this place — this home — should
be just as I left it, when God’s light is rampant on earth. And I’ve been part
of it. What a journey! It was a spur of the moment decision, but the best I’ve
ever made. I teamed up with Theo, and we just decided we’d take a road at
random and see what village it led to.
The wiry old man sitting outside his house had half a dozen
children playing at his feet. That gave us an opening.
“Are those your grandchildren, old man?” I asked.
His face softened and his eyes brightened as they wandered, first
to them and then to us.
“All of them,” he said.
Theo joined in. “Children are so trusting.”
The laughter lines creased around his eyes. “They come
to me with anything.”
“Did you know that’s the way we must enter the Kingdom
of Heaven?”
The old man stiffened; his face suddenly hard. “Trust
God like the children trust me?” He looked at the ground, frowning.
“No. You see, I’ve had experience, which these children haven’t had.”
His eyes misted over. “I know what it’s like to pray to God and have a silent
heaven.”
It was my turn. “Will you tell us about it?”
He stood up. “Come. I’ll show you.”
He opened the gate and ushered us into his home, leading us
to a room at the back. On the way, we heard cries and the pounding of heels on
the floor. He opened the door a fraction and bade us look. In the middle of the
room tied to a pole that was fixed to the floor was — what was it — an
animal? No, although like a crazed beast, its eyes burned with fury, the head
swayed back and forth and the heels drummed up and down, up and down while it
wrenched at the ropes holding it to the post. It was barely recognisable as a
young girl, tormented and crazed by a thousand demons.
Closing the door, the old man took us to his sitting room.
“That’s Lydia. I’ve prayed to God day and night for my grandchild, but
He’s not listening.” The tears glistened on his lined face. “Can you
see why I cannot trust Him as a little child?”
I glanced at Theo and saw his face shine. “Sir, God has
heard your prayer. His timing is perfect. He wants you to know about His
Messiah. He’s come to save us from our sins and deliver us from the oppression
of the Evil One.”
He told him the good news of Jesus, the Messiah. On
finishing, he said, “Now, take us to Lydia.”
It was our first taste of the power Jesus gave us. With
screeching and a stench that filled the house, the demons fled. Lydia’s eyes
softened, her face transformed and she spoke to her grandfather in a voice as
sweet and clear as a mountain stream. “Thank you, Grandpa for praying so
earnestly for me.” She smiled as she held the weeping, trembling old man.
That evening we preached to a packed house.
Lydia, had waltzed around the village in a dance of joy, spreading the
good news. The Kingdom of God permeated the whole village as we stayed at the
old man’s home preaching, teaching, healing the sick and driving out demons in
the Name of Jesus.
Then we moved to the next village and the scene was repeated
as we used Jesus’ strategy, staying in people’s homes and ministering from
there. (Luke 10:7) We’d never experienced such power.
Finally, after filling village after village with the light
of God, we reported back to Jesus. “Even the demons obeyed us!” we
exclaimed with excitement. The other seventy disciples had similar stories. (Luke
10:17)
But Jesus warned us, “Don’t get carried away with the
power I’ve given you. Remember from whence it came and rejoice that God has
chosen you to be with Him.” (Luke 10:20) It was a sober lesson. I admit,
the power had gone to my head a little.
And now, my little home, it’ll be good to sleep in my own
bed with familiar things around me, but then I’ll have to say goodbye to you.
You see, there’s a Messiah who has no place to lay His head (Luke 9:58) and
I’ll be following Him wherever He goes.
