November 18, 2018
Thanksgiving Frost
To see them now you would not realize
That in the longer days they were consumed
By green bathed in the tears of summer skies
And flowers bursting forth in fragrant bloom.
Then vibrant buds gave way to sumptuous fruit
That harvesters brought safely in for food
Before they turned the plants up by the root,
Abandoning the fields in quietness to brood.
But on November mornings cold and brown,
The fields yield harvest of a different kind:
As frigid air descends on fertile ground,
A cloud of glory blankets for a time
The naked fields forgotten and forlorn,
In witness of the life that they have worn.
Copyright © 2018 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
The last half of my drive to work runs through a rural area with fields on both sides. Over the past ten years I have enjoyed the beauty of this land in each season. There is something holy about the fields after the harvest has been taken and the cold begins to settle in. Almost every morning they have breathed up a cloud of fog as though they are giving up the ghost.
November 12, 2018
The Great Physician
His healing touch had made a leper clean again.
He raised a servant with the power of His Word
And stilled a storm and cast out demons from two men.
Then driven from that place, forgiveness He conferred
Upon a paralytic and a publican.
Chastised for breaking bread with sinners He proclaimed
That mercy is God’s greatest gift to fallen man.
Then to his knees a troubled ruler fell unshamed
And heard the blessed news his child would live anew.
Meanwhile, a weary woman followed silently,
Half mad with fear yet holding onto hope that grew.
And though unclean, she pressed in close enough to see
His garment’s fringe, which she in eager faith took hold.
Dispelling fear, His words spoke healing manifold.
Copyright © 2018 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This poem loosely follows the narrative given in Matthew 8:1-9:22. The portion about the woman with the issue of blood was the Gospel reading for the 24th Sunday after Trinity, and although I wanted the main focus to be on that moment of healing that the woman experienced, I thought it was important to see what had led up to this event, which was multiple instances of healing, administered in various ways, as well as a demonstration of His control over His creation in the calming of the storm. In each case, Jesus gave the petitioner exactly what was needed. His healing power was not distributed through some magic hocus-pocus formula. He is the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, and His solutions were as varied as the problems.
But what was also varied were the responses to His grace. He had driven out demons, and for His trouble was driven out Himself. And though it was not recorded that this dear woman spoke a word, her grasping the tassel of Jesus’ prayer shawl spoke volumes of the faith she bore in the Christ who could heal when He would and as He would.
Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief.
Angliverse 