Unless a seed falls to the earth and dies

Like seed I am buried in the ground
dead and unknown,
covered over in Friday,
soaked through with Sunday,
that in my dying,
our dying,
there might be living,
his living.

I go to the field called "Mission"
bought with the blood of a lamb,
I go with my deed labeled "Cross"
with good-news seed in hand,
I go to plant a garden
I go to grow a city
I go to harvest new reality
I go to to till new land.

Salvation, spring up from the ground,
in dogwood blossoms
and pomegranates
and cedars to shade,
populating,
a new garden in waiting.

Great Light of the World Come to Impart (old and new)

I make the cross of Christ upon my breast,
over the tablet of my hard heart,
and I beseech the Living God of the universe -
may the Light of Lights come
to my dark heart from Thy place;
may the Spirit's wisdom come to my heart's tablet
from my Saviour.

-From the Aidan compline, who lived in the early 7th century in Ireland.

Sometimes at night
I am afraid
I cover my eyes,
Cover my shame
So here in the dark
Broken apart
Come with your light
And fill up my heart
Oh great light of the world
Fill up my soul
I’m half a man here
So come make me whole
Oh great light of the world
Come to impart
The light of your grace
To fill up my heart

The wind of this world
Can push us around
Folding us up
Backing us down
But here in the dark
I’m not alone
So come with your strength
And carry me home
Oh great light of the world
Fill up my soul
I’m half a man here
So come make me whole
Oh great light of the world
Come to impart
The light of your grace
Oh great light of the world
Fill up my soul
I’m half a man here
So come make me whole
Oh great light of the world
Come to impart
The light of your grace
To fill up my heart
The light of your grace
To fill up my heart

-Bebo Norman, Great Light Of The World

New Every Morning

Today I was afraid. I was afraid of being insignificant.
Today I was proud. I wanted honor and success and notoriety.
Today I was ashamed. I did not size up, and I was sizing up.
Today was like yesterday.
And the day before, and the day before...
Will tomorrow be like today?
... but today's trouble is overwhelming enough.

The sun dies,
The sun rises,
each day
Does it die under the weight of our collective sin?
So that we help it over the noonday hump and push it back into the ground?
Does it mean to wake us up in the morning when our blinds are shut tight?
Does is muffle through the curtains
"Awake sleeper!
Arise from the dead
and I will shine on you!"?

Today the sun died, again.
Today I buried it just past the mountains.
Tomorrow the sun will rise, again.
Tomorrow will I rise with it?
Tonight the sun will not die for nothing.
Tonight the curtains are pulled back.




Picture from www.discosuperfly.biz