Walking in the radiant light of this morning’s rising sun. Sensing the intangible yet intimate presence of that gentle breeze engaging and inspiring my very soul. Hearing the refreshing sound of rushing waters; clean and life-giving: flowing with hope and joy and peace. Appreciating the journey; the ups and downs, highs and lows and paths not walked before. Anticipating that final bend, the familiar door and a glorious welcome home. (c) 2020 Graham Oakes
Oh Lord! Forgive us for the way we turn your living presence into works of stone, of unchanging forms which exist for themselves; within which you cannot breathe. Forgive us, for celebrating your coming as a birthday, for one day only, then putting it back into the drawer for seasons and special occasions. Forgive us, that the fruit you challenge us with is observed as a ‘still life’ study; to be marvelled at for its composition and setting without moving us to desire its treasure when revealed in us. Forgive us, that the gifts you share are denied, devalued or desired for the wrong reasons. Forgive us, that we underestimate their power and your glory. Forgive us: for arguing over their use and limitations. Forgive us: that, in the midst of diversity, we ignore your translating, transforming, and unifying power. Lord, in your mercy, forgive us: Oh, Lord! Redeem, restore, revive and renew; breathe on me, I pray. Indwell my tradition with daily renewal, my human perspective with your heavenly vision; refresh my stagnant backwater with the rushing waters of your love; replace my ambition with your perfect calling. Fill me, to overflowing; capture me and set me free to serve you, here, now and forever. By your amazing grace, Amen.
To have and to lose: this is our human condition. Through struggle, or gift, we gain that which, through struggle or gift, is taken away. Transient experiences of life elude our attempts to retain them. We learn that our humanity is finite; our lives but a vapour; our loves and hates live on in others, if they live at all. The small steps we take are as nothing. The earth revolves around the sun and its cycles diminish, even more, our grasp on time and space. But you ... in your birth you bore the hope of nations. In your life dwelt all the Godhead, bodily. In your sacrifice is forgiveness for all who call. In your resurrection death, and all its power, is defeated. And then, at your Ascension, the Gift was promised ... Incarnate Presence, restored with a more glorious Indwelling. Your heavenly humanity is all gain and, by your Spirit, you fill us with the light of your Day ... ... turning our shadows into everlasting Dawn.
As part of the RS Thomas Poetry Appreciation Group we have been asked to write a poem in response to one of his … this is my first attempt which I posted to the group today … you can find his poem on the Intranet … it’s a beautiful read.
There is a wakefulness that is not bound by the margins of sleep; an awareness that is constant and alive. Alive to all there is in the infinity and eternity of being. We could not bear it. Only One who has borne our weakness and broken our chains hears and listens, watches and sees, across the ocean that separates and calls us home.
The Garden of Creation, now lost to one and all, replaced by forest thickets upon whose roots we fall; our destiny still governed by laws we always break and all creation stumbles over the mess we make. The fruit for which we lusted, upon that single tree, reminds us of our stubborn pride and failed humanity. The other Tree was kept from us lest we should live forever; expelled, we faced the mortal cost of our rebellious error. But while that sin stained everyone born to the world of men the love of God could not be dimmed and purposed, even then, to be the way for our return into his holy place, our restoration, full and free, by such a costly grace. Into our world he placed the seed: his Word, his Light, his Son and he, among us, lived and died - the hope for everyone. The Tree of Life was lifted up to bear the Lord of All as it became the wooden cross that broke our fateful Fall. And once again the Garden received that perfect Man and we began to understand the mystery of Love’s plan. The empty cross, the empty tomb, now relics of the fight: the darkness withers at the dawn of Resurrection Light.
The garden awoke: bathing in the fresh dew on its leaves and petals; stretching towards the light of dawn. They knew. The birds chased each other in the misty air, trilling their joy at being alive. They knew. The ancient trees, rooted deep, let their branches play in the breeze, responding to the warmth of the rising sun. They knew. The stream burbled its way with a brighter tone while the stones and the dust held their place but in their own way they knew. The shimmering air, the drifting clouds, the mountains and valleys, the lands and seas, the sun, moon and stars, they all knew ... and waited. First, the women came; focusing on the emptiness, fearing the worst, running to tell the men ... They didn't know. Next, the men, seeing the evidence, without understanding ... They didn't know. So much distress, so many tears, confusion and chaos swirling in their world. Then, just as on that first Day, God's Spirit hovered, the Son spoke ... and they knew. (c) 2020 Graham Oakes
Never, since the seventh day, had there been this silence of accomplishment. Not that the world noticed. It had long since lost its sensitivity to eternity and the breathing of creation. Behind the stone, in a virgin tomb, lay the body of the Creator. The Word that spoke, "Let there be Light", was contained within complete darkness, just as Deity had been contained within human flesh. The final sacrifice; the ultimate definition of "Immanuel" - God with us: in living, in dying and now in death itself. Outside, the soldiers nonchalantly do their duty. The Pharisees find comfort in their religion but are haunted by his words. The disciples, incredulous that it had come to this, fear for their own lives as those who had once believed ... The women keep watch. And, as the sun slowly slips into the evening of the seventh day, God, having accomplished all that could be done took his Sabbath once again ... (c) 2020 Graham Oakes
Three crosses stood on Calvary's hill struck deep to hold this dark world's ill; but one of them bore Heaven's Light that came to break our darkest night. Rejection spoke in hateful tone, “I curse you all, leave me alone”. A life depraved lost its last chance to look and live with just a glance. Repentance wept for debts unpaid and, in his agony, he prayed, “Remember me, O Master hear, for in your presence there’s no fear”. Redemption hung twixt heaven and earth, oh, who could tell its holy worth? Repentance heard these words of grace, “Soon, by my side, you’ll find your place”. Three crosses stood on Calvary’s hill with only one remembered still: the Cross that held Love, crucified, where, for our sake, our Saviour died. (c) Graham Oakes
He chose to wash disciples’ feet, despite his majesty, and showed them all the way of love, his holy destiny. Though tempted to refuse the Cup he knows its history. The Chosen One has made his choice and drinks his destiny. The Prince of Peace is judged by hate though reason would him free. This world will never let him rule and change its destiny. The Servant-King gives up his throne to grip a cruel tree. With hands held wide and crowned with thorns he bore his destiny. My God, my Saviour and my Friend has suffered all for me. He calls me to leave all for him and share his destiny. Now may I live as if I’ve died to all that I might be and rise with him, to live and love, this is my destiny. (c) Graham Oakes
This deep and silent darkness, this all too human fear; this self-denying Deity, this judgement drawing near. This cool and fragrant garden, this echo of the Fall; this reason for his Passion, this hard and heavy call. This path of pain and sorrow, this pruning of the bud; this cup that must be taken, this shedding of the blood. This one last opportunity, this choice to turn away; this Love that answers for him, this Will that means he'll stay. This Father-Son communion, this precious Trinity; this loss of heaven's presence, this fulfilled prophecy. This waited for arrival, this friend and solemn foe; this end to end all endings, this life to death must go. (c) Graham Oakes