December 20, 2018
Creation Story
On formless earth consumed by emptiness
Obscured by darkness like a funeral cloak,
The hovering Spirit moved to form and bless,
The quickening Word rang forth and morning broke.
Then day by day, disorder was subdued.
Water and land erupted in activity.
Each new glory was avowed as good
By God the Father in divine decree.
On maiden filled with hope for David’s Son
The Spirit hovered to engender Light,
The promised Seed, and God with man made one.
Creator stooped to heal creation’s blight.
His presence in the Jordan did the waters bless,
And as he rose, the Dove descended there
From heavens open as when angels did confess
Glory to God and peace beyond compare.
Yea, peace to all with whom he is well pleased,
Which at the Jordan was revealed to be
His well-beloved Son who has appeased
The wrath that we deserved and set us free.
Once dead in sin, we live to glorify
The Son who has created us afresh.
Now washed with water by the Spirit nigh,
We please the Father through the Word made flesh.
Copyright © 2018 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Written in gratitude for the Word who was made flesh and dwelt among us. A blessed Christmas to all.
Genesis 1, Isaiah 11, Isaiah 40, and John 1.
March 27, 2018
The Seated Angel
First light of dawn upon the first day of the week—
Twice begun but for the mourners doubly bleak,
The morning rumbled with a loud and dreadful roar,
An aftershock rekindled from three days before.
The women, bearing spices to anoint the dead,
Were startled by an angel and would soon have fled,
But then they heard the angel’s reassuring tone,
“Fear not, for I can tell you where your Lord has gone.”
The angel spoke no peace to Pilate’s soldier-guard,
Who fell as dead before the entrance they had barred
When heaven shook the earth to roll the stone away.
And then, his work complete, the angel sat in bright array.
Since time began he had stood ready to attend God’s will,
Yet never had he seen such woe as that on Calvary’s hill.
The conflict finished, his the glorious task of setting free
The Holy One who set sin’s prisoners at liberty.
And yet, the heavy stone could not have kept our Lord constrained,
But for our sake discarded linen cloths within the tomb remained.
The angel rolled away the stone so that the world could see
The empty tomb, for it revealed our Savior’s sovereignty.
Copyright © 2013, 2017, 2018 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This poem is based on Matthew’s account of the resurrection, primarily on Matthew 28:1-7. It is a comfort to dwell on Christ’s resurrection, for in His is the hope that we too will be resurrected. A few years ago when this passage was read during an Easter Eucharist service, I became fascinated by the idea of the angel sitting down. Angels are almost always depicted as standing, ready to do God’s will. The Scriptures do not mention such details unless they are important. In this poem I offer one possible explanation of the significance of that fact. “It is finished” resonated throughout creation on the day of resurrection, and we can hear it still.
This poem was started on 28 January 2013, and I thought it was complete at the time, but I’ve revised it twice now.
March 25, 2015
Breath of Life
Entombed
Within four walls they hid,
Like Lazarus in his four-day grave.
In grief,
With dreadful doubts and halting hopes,
They waited for the storm to end.
They hung
Suspended between then and when,
Not even daring to ask why.
He died.
Of that they could be very sure.
Sure, some had said He lived again.
But how?
Who could have said the words for Him
That He had spoken in Bethany?
Come forth!
Creator-Word: “Let there be life!”
Now suddenly He speaks again
Sweet peace,
There in the midst of them.
And once again Creator’s breath
Ignites
The dust of earth with Spirit’s flame,
Foreshadowing Great Pentecost,
From whence
His Church breathes forth the Word
To call the dead to life anew.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Based on John 20:19-23, the Gospel reading for the First Sunday after Easter
April 18, 2014
Poured Out
The river that poured out from Eden’s garden
And wound its way through time and history
Now flows from heaven’s throne, the font of pardon;
Its water holds the sacred mystery.
Its healing stream delights God’s city;
His people find refreshment for their soul.
Its cleansing power can restore the guilty;
In mercy it will every grief console.
On Golgotha its Source was manifest
When the Creator-King poured out His life.
The soldier pierced the heart of Heaven’s best,
And blood and water flowed to end our strife.
The Temple, briefly razed, would rise again.
The river from its threshold covers sin.
Copyright © 2014 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Today is Good Friday. At last evening’s Maundy Thursday mass I was struck by the concept of Jesus’ soul being poured out, mainly because it made me think of two related concepts. The first is the water and blood that flowed from His side when the soldier’s spear pierced through both His soul and that of His dear mother. The second was the prophecy in Ezekiel 47 of a river that would flow from the threshold of the Temple, would grow in influence, and would heal the sea when its water reached that far. That passage is one of my favorites, and it reads much like the creation story, which is only appropriate since it is the prophecy of the re-creation accomplished through the atonement.
Listed below are links to the Scripture passages on which the poem is based.
His soul was poured out unto death, but in so doing, He drowned death with life. It is finished, and He is the victor. And thanks be to God, we share in His victory.
April 13, 2014
Fourth Day
Sprawling sycamores and emerald fields,
With apple trees and every plant that yields
Rich food for man to gratefully receive,
Recoiled in horror as our mother Eve
Reached up and grabbed the fruit of doom.
With one swift bite great sorrow she consumed.
Though still the source of myrrh and frankincense
And spikenard for Christ’s feet, the plants were hence
Cursed, cursed for Adam’s sake by their own kind:
Food-yielding plants were choked by thorns that bind.
But at the appointed time Creation’s Lord
Entered Jerusalem, greatly adored.
Tall, graceful palms were hewn to smooth His way
And shouts of “Save now!” echoed for a day.
But all too soon the shouts were “Crucify!”
So on that woeful tree they lifted high
The Carpenter who formed the universe.
The King was crowned with thorns to heal the curse.
Third-day creation, plants that ne’er drew breath
Were made complicit in His gory death.
The third day Mary brought sweet oil and spice
To honor Him who paid sin’s awful price.
Her weeping ended when the Gardener she found;
Her sad laments in morning’s joy were drowned.
The Vine whose third-day triumph ransoms all
Bears fourth-day branches rescued from the Fall.
Copyright © 2014 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
14 April: I’m returning to annotate some of the scripture references. Sycamore trees are mentioned several times in the Scriptures, but most people remember them in connection with Zacchaeus, who climbed into a tree because he was having trouble seeing Jesus because of the crowd. The fields suggest the harvest that Jesus mentioned when He saw the multitudes and had compassion on them. Apple trees are mentioned in Song of Solomon (in reference to The Beloved), but also in Joel 1, withered apple trees (and other plants) demonstrate the effect of sin, and this idea is reinforced as the topic turns to creation and the fall.
But in the vein of Genesis 3:15, we are not left in despair because the next plant products that are mentioned are two of the gifts brought to our Lord at His birth. The poem then echoes the spiritual battle that has plagued the world since the Fall, finding its climax in the Cross.
That battle is demonstrated in the outcries from the final two crowds that swarmed around our Lord. The Palm Sunday crowd, by yelling “Hosanna!” (which means “Save now!”), was actually yelling “Crucify Him!” and didn’t even realize it. We could not be saved without His death on the cross. Was that crowd one-for-one the same as the crowd at the cross? No point in answering that question because it is not the point. What is true is that both crowds were representative of mankind. I was not there, but my sins nailed Jesus to the cross. What is also true is that there were faithful followers of Christ who stood at the foot of the cross and neither deserted Him nor called for His death. But nevertheless, He died for them.
The final references I want to highlight are Mary’s mistaking Jesus for a gardener (an event I’ve written about before), which calls the Garden of Eden into remembrance, and the reference to John 15, in which our Lord declares Himself to be the True Vine and His people to be the branches. Between those two images is a reference to Psalm 30:5, which is one way to summarize the events that occurred from Good Friday to Easter Sunday:
For His anger is but for a moment,
His favor is for life;
Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning.
Thanks be to God that the morning is coming.
August 2, 2013
Veterans
Black-eyed Susans peering through the chain-link fence
Divert my eyes from razor wire that looms above.
Unlike the well-armed guard, alert to every threat,
Their faces are alight with memory and hope.
For flower-beauty graced this place before
This fence was built and tanks assembled here,
And their soft splendor will withstand war’s ugly gaze
Until the time when swords become plowshares.
Even in death their eyes drop seeds that wait for spring
To shower them with the sky’s sweet tears,
Which blend with warming earth to coax new life,
New beauty, from the barren battlefield.
They bud, then bloom, diffusing calm amid the fray
And offering themselves as healing balm.
Their incense rises in the cruelest summer heat;
Their pollen nourishes a host of butterflies.
These blooms, untutored in the deadly art of war,
Prefer the art of peace and lavish loveliness.
Copyright © 2013 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
I have been pondering what it is like to live on this earth, where such incredible sadness can be countermanded by the beauty and promise that lives within a flower. I have referenced no specific Scripture within the poem other than Isaiah 2:4, but if you cannot see Christ in a Black-eyed Susan’s face, then nothing I can say will help you.
January 6, 2013
Sonnet for Epiphany
Born on day four with myriad other twinkling lights
Created to mark days and seasons, months and years,
The star shone faithfully through centuries of nights
Amid the stately dance of the celestial spheres.
A minor player, satisfied God’s glory to declare,
The star remained unnoticed by beleaguered man
Until a special glory it was called to share.
This missive of the Light appeared in eastern land
To guide the Gentile seers to the promised King.
Inspired by fearless hope, and by the star’s light drawn,
From half a world away they trudged, their gifts to bring.
As brilliant beams anointed earth with heaven’s dawn,
The Magi found the promised Child and bowed to praise
The Light that banished darkness with its glorious rays.
Copyright © 2013, 2022 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This poem might be described as Genesis 1 meets Psalm 19, Matthew 2, and John 1. The interesting thing about the birth of our Lord is that every one of the people who took the time and effort to believe God’s word and come to see Him for themselves went away joyful. But those who did not desire the Light could neither be drawn nor illumined by it, namely Herod and the chief priests and scribes. There is no way to fathom the deceptive wickedness of Herod, who pretended to want to worship our Lord, while all the time plotting against Him (bringing to mind Genesis 3:15). There will always be opposition to the clear truth of Christ. But the Light cannot be extinguished. Dawn will break, and it will encompass the world.
Started and finished on The Feast of the Epiphany 2013.
Revised on The Feast of the Epiphany 2022.
December 16, 2012
Lamp to Our Feet
The Word spoke forth into the formless dearth:
“Let there be light,” and so the darkness fled.
The light was good and to good things gave birth.
And Light and Word like a great river spread.
Though chaos fought to keep its stranglehold,
The Light pierced through with beams of glory bright.
As Word spoke through His prophets sent of old,
The promise broke the curse of gathering night.
Through years of silence, still the Light remained
And kept sweet hope alive through trials grim.
The wretched people sat in darkness, chained,
Waiting the sound of morn’s melodious hymn.
In the beginning was the Living Word.
Then Word made flesh brought light and life to men,
And through His death new life has been transferred.
Now all must walk in Light who live in Him.
Copyright © 2012 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
St. John provides an obvious link between the first chapter of his Gospel and Genesis 1. The two great “in the beginning” passages mark the narratives of creation and re-creation, the beginning of life and of life abundant. But in this poem I have taken this connection a few steps further to follow the thread in its path from Genesis to John’s Gospel and then beyond to his epistles. God’s working throughout history has been weaving a tapestry that is still taking shape as the Kingdom comes on earth as it is in heaven. But from our vantage point, we can look back and glimpse creation and the fall, with the aftermath that included the prophets and the promise, and then the promise fulfilled in the Word made flesh who lived and died for us. In the second verse, there is a conscious play on words, as we normally think of promises being broken. But in this case a promise broke the curse. Thanks be to God!
I purposely stopped the poem at the point where our responsibility lies. It is true that one day we will live with Him in perfect Light, but in this present age it is still a daily struggle to walk in the Light; given the phrasing in John’s epistle, it is not a foregone conclusion that we will do so. It is an act of the will, one that begins with a love of His Word and Law, as we read throughout Psalm 119, the source of the poem’s title. It is also an act of faith, hope, and love to behave now as citizens of a Kingdom we cannot yet see. Abiding in Christ is the key, as He told His disciples in the Upper Room.
God help us ever to do so.
This poem is a by-product of my work to prepare the resources for Christmas Day. Now, back to work!
December 24, 2011
On Christmas Eve
Hovering Dove, whose wings smoothed chaos into form
When “Let there be” spoke earth from nothingness,
Send forth the Sun of Righteousness
Whose healing wings convert the night to morn;
Scatter the scavenger birds that steal my peace
And threaten to undo what You have made.
Like Boaz, spread your wings to give me shade.
Redeem me, and from every fear release.
Word of God, speak truth where falsehoods reign,
For loving truth will silence fiery darts of lies.
Transfigure me, Your icon; as self dies
Show me your glory, that I may not strive in vain,
The glory Moses could not see until, the heavens riven,
Eternal glory in the Son of God was given.
Copyright © 2011 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Christmas is the time when we most seem to show that we simply do not “get” God’s plan. Propounders of the prosperity gospel tell us all year around that God wants to bless us with material stuff, and at Christmas time we seem to believe them. I do not believe that Jesus came to this earth so that I might have a flat-screen television. I believe He came to give me Himself, His glorious presence in my life, bringing peace and hope, but bringing also a cross of self-denial, the way of suffering that Christ Himself has trod. That, my friends, is our Christmas gift: the cross and the Cross, the opportunity to be transformed into His glorious image as we deny self more and more. That may not be the message people want to hear on Christmas, but it is the only one that saves.
The idea for this poem was born on one of my long drives to work this week. The last six miles is a lovely farmland/wilderness area with few houses, and I spend a lot of time enjoying God’s handiwork. I often see hawks or deer, but this week there was a flock of ravens in my path gloating over some morsel they had found, and as my car approached, they scattered. My mind immediately went to the parable of the birds that steal the seeds of faith. I kept repeating the phrase “scatter the scavenger birds” to myself until I had time to sit down and write the rest of the poem!
And so my best advice to all is this: never drive on the same road as a writer, for a writer’s mind may wander at the drop of a hat.
December 11, 2011
Sonnet of the Better Ark
You know how many lions roam the plains.
You shepherd from the clouds the quenching rains.
You make the meadows laugh with betony
And revel in the birds’ cacophony.
Your tender care o’er fields and cattle-kin
Blankets the earth and all that dwell therein.
The hills stand watch in loyalty to You
While trees reach up, embracing skies of blue.
Creator, God, Your whole earth sings of love.
You see each sparrow fall or soar above.
Though birds may hush and men fall silent too,
What You have made, You will create anew.
The rising of your Son who did descend,
Gives confidence this frail world’s not the end.
Copyright © 2011 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
I have been thinking a lot lately about sparrows falling and what that means in a couple of contexts. First, if God takes note when every sparrow falls, then “this frail world’s not the end.” It would be futile for God to count the sparrows if all He’s doing is keeping some sort of cosmic score to report when the “Game Over” sign flashes on the screen. The end of life in this world does not mean the end of life, or else what would be the point of counting sparrows? But the final word of the poem has a squinting meaning. I also mean that this world is not an end and purpose in itself. We live in a place where moth and rust corrupts and thieves break through and steal (Matthew 6:19-20). If we put all our time and effort into accumulating material things, we miss the point entirely. That is not to say that the material world has no value, for we do not deny the goodness of creation and the great gift that God has provided in the material world. It is to assert that this world has no meaning apart from the purposes of its good and kind Creator.
Second, the concept of sparrows falling means something for the whole “problem of pain” as it is often called. The passage in Luke that reassures us we are much more important than sparrows says that a fallen sparrow is not forgotten before God (Luke 12:6). The parallel passage in Matthew says that sparrows do not fall apart from the will of God (Matthew 10:29). How could a good and loving God will that a sparrow fall? The real question is, How can we creatures question the goodness and love of our Redeemer God? If He loves the sparrows (and us) and yet sparrows fall and children die, then death must not be the worst thing in the world and there must be something else besides the world that we can see. And so there is. There is the irrevocable hope that the God who made the world is making it again, that a day is coming when no one shall hurt or destroy in all His holy mountain (Isaiah 65:25), that His great love will prevail over every pain and every grief, but more important, over the sin that causes them. The painful path of re-creation is outlined in the Litany:
By the mystery of thy holy Incarnation; by thy holy Nativity and Circumcision; by thy Baptism, Fasting, and Temptation,
Good Lord, deliver us.By thine Agony and Bloody Sweat; by thy Cross and Passion; by thy precious Death and Burial; by thy glorious Resurrection and Ascension; and by the Coming of the Holy Ghost,
Good Lord, deliver us.In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our prosperity; in the hour of death, and in the day of judgement,
Good Lord, deliver us.
Deliver us, indeed, O Christ, who pioneered the way of sacrifice, for You offered yourself before the foundation of the world. Thanks be to God!
This was written today, 11 December 2011. The passage from Isaiah 65 was the Old Testament reading in the parish I attend. I had trouble with the title, as I generally do, but it seemed to me that if the ark was a type of salvation, then it also represents the fact that God is saving and will save His whole creation. New heaven, new earth, and a promise better than the rainbow. Perhaps another poem is brewing.
Angliverse 