April 16, 2022
Eden’s Gate
Seized from the peaceful garden as he prayed,
The Savior yielded to the brutal horde,
Which Peter would have scattered with his blade
And to which Judas had betrayed the Lord.
He with a kiss the Paschal Lamb identified
As he, like Adam, walked with God that night.
He led Him from the garden to be tried,
A vain attempt to overcome the Light.
Effected with the flimsiest of lies,
The quintessential coup was quickly done.
The serpent triumphed at this priceless Prize
As blood flowed from the sword-pierced Son.
But at Eden’s Gate the ancient flaming sword
Fell to the earth to bar the way no more.
Copyright © 2022 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Matthew 20:48-50
Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying, Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is he: hold him fast. And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, master; and kissed him. And Jesus said unto him, Friend, wherefore art thou come? Then came they, and laid hands on Jesus and took him.
March 25, 2018
Redemption
Lost, all lost, to foolishness of sin.
The gate obstructed now by flaming sword.
The thieves cannot forget what might have been
Had they not stolen from the garden’s Lord.
Cast out, they tilled the earth through grievous toil,
Reaping their meager crops amid the thorns.
They buried children in the greedy soil
And wept as dark nights turned to bitter morns.
Oh, who can save us from this endless death?
Who will redeem our lost inheritance?
Only the Kinsman who gave us His breath
Can pay the dreadful price for our offense.
Between two thieves He paid redemption’s price
To bring His people back to Paradise.
Copyright © 2018 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Truly no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life,
for the ransom of their life is costly and can never suffice,
that he should live on forever and never see the pit.
July 15, 2017
Moneychanger
Oh, stood you there as moneychangers fled,
And did your pious glare increase their dread?
As they sought refuge from His holy wrath,
Pray, did you salvage coins in the aftermath?
Sly keeper of the funds, how carefully
You counted silver and spent frugally!
Was yours the voice objecting to the price
Of bread to change the wilderness to paradise?
You cringed when fragrant oil was freely poured
To anoint the blessed feet of Christ the Lord.
You feigned concern for souls who live in dearth,
While reckoning upon the spikenard’s worth.
Then in your final pact to fill your purse,
You sold the Maker of the Universe.
Copyright © 2017 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Scriptural context:
April 9, 2017
Hosanna!
Hosanna, King! We need your power now,
When tyrants rage and tax our very soul.
Deliver us from despots, and endow
Our lives with peace to make us strong and whole.
Prosper us with circuses and bread,
For we are weary from oppression’s yoke
And tired of wasting days in bitter dread.
Save now! It’s time that you awoke!
We know you raised the dead, so now arise
To free your people and to take your throne.
Hosanna, Savior! Hear our desperate cries,
Messiah, our eternal Cornerstone!
Now, speak no more about this Son of Man
Whose sufferings will spoil our master plan.
Copyright © 2017 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Scriptural context:
We dare not judge the crowds who thronged our Lord on his triumphal ride. What are we looking for when we approach the throne? An easy life? A full pantry? Earthly prosperity?
Our prayer should be for God to give us everything we need to serve Him best and to increase in holiness. Are we bold enough even to pray that He would take away all that is an impediment to serving Him?
May God give us grace to walk in the light of Christ.
March 19, 2016
Once for All: A Good Friday Poem
One wretched curse embraced by Him, the spotless Lamb,
One bloody death He faced, the Eternal, Great I AM.
This one death for all time perfected guilty men;
Remitted every crime and purged the stain of sin.
By this one offering life freely was bestowed
On us in darkness dying, who bore sin’s heavy load.
Now perfect, we still grow in grace that sanctifies.
Our burdens gone, we trust that with Him we will rise.
Shadows dispelled, He reigns, seated at God’s right hand.
And loosed from sin’s dread chains, before Him now we stand.
Invited to draw near, we join the covenant feast
And serve Him without fear, our ever-blessed High Priest.
Copyright © 2016 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Inspired by Hebrews 10, Ephesians 2:13, Matthew 11:28-30, and Luke 1:70-74
The epistle reading at evensong this Wednesday was from Hebrews 10. I have read and heard this passage many times, but it seemed that I was hearing it with new ears. The sorrow that I felt upon being reminded that the old covenant required daily sacrifices for sin, yet never completely dispatched its effects, was overcome by the powerful statement that on the cross Jesus served as both the sacrifice and the High Priest, and as the perfect Son of God who was also fully man, He broke the chains that had held mankind since the time of Adam. His sacrifice being sufficient, He sat down, as none of the old covenant priests had ever been able to do.
The verse that really captivated me was this:
For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified. (Hebrews 10:14 NKJV)
It was a much needed reminder that although I am saved, I am being saved and will be saved. Counted as a member of God’s family, I still fall short from time to time, but by His grace, He is sanctifying me. I have been through a difficult three months or so with health issues, and so I don’t need to be reminded that the flesh is weak. I do, however, always appreciate a reminder that His grace is sufficient.
December 7, 2015
Contrarieties
Heaven’s herald bore the glorious news
Of the Child a Virgin pure would bear:
Servant, yet Heaven’s everlasting Heir
And Son of David, monarch of the Jews,
Heaven’s army stormed the grassy plain
Near David’s city, lowly Bethlehem,
Overcoming shepherd-warriors, David’s kin,
With the battle cry that peace on earth would reign.
Heaven’s King walked justly among men
To heal the sick and bring to life the dead,
To feed the hungry pilgrims living bread,
To preach deliverance from every sin.
Heaven’s Face turned from the Son of Man
And plunged the earth in darkness deep
When Light and Life hung on the curséd tree
To suffer, bleed, and die, yet rise again.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
1 Corinthians 1:18 For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.
April 4, 2015
To His Mother on Holy Saturday
The Holy Word once hidden in your womb
Lies silent on His well-created earth.
Your sword-pierced heart is shrouded in the tomb,
As was foretold at His miraculous birth.
While chaos tries to overwhelm your soul
You dare to hope your pondered words are true,
That God’s own Son holds all in His control,
And by His power will the earth renew.
Dearest mother of the dearest Son,
Weep now, but not for His demise.
Weep for the sin which has this world undone,
For souls ensnared by the deceiver’s lies.
Your perfect Son has died to set the captives free,
And with His rising, gloom and death will flee.
Copyright © 2015, 2021 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
March 31, 2015
You, Judas
You watched Him turn the water into wine,
Saw crowds who followed Him sit down to dine
On loaves and fishes freely blessed and given,
Requiring that no money from your purse be riven.
A fish produced a shekel for His tax.
Each of His followers for nothing lacks.
Though at His call you left your livelihood,
From His hand you were given every good.
But, keeper of the money bag, your eyes
Could not from wealth of this world ever rise.
Blessings mistaken for the realm itself
Decay and tarnish, cease to be real wealth.
His Kingdom—so much more than coins and bread—
Escaped your grasp, and doom fell on your head.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
John 2:1-11
John 6
Matthew 17:26-27
John 12:4-6
John 13
Genesis 3:15
March 29, 2015
Mercy Seat
Through centuries, their vigil they maintained,
Their wings o’ershadowing the mercy seat.
Guarding the Tree of Life from desecrating feet
Of interlopers who must be restrained.
When He who dwelt between the cherubim
Shone forth into the weary, war-torn world
They hovered over earth with wings unfurled,
Holy of Holies joined with flesh in Him.
That flesh pierced through, He set His Spirit free,
Cried “It is finished!” with His final breath,
And dying, dealt the fatal blow to Death.
The temple veil was torn at His decree,
And from seclusion glory poured abroad.
The Mercy Seat in silence briefly lay
Until the angel came to roll the stone away.
Releasing from the tomb the Son of God.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Exodus 25:17-22
Genesis 3:24
Psalm 80:1
Matthew 27:51
Matthew 28:2
April 19, 2014
Saturday’s Sorrow
The room was silent, save for somber weeping
And weary feet that found no purpose now.
The faithful few their watch were keeping;
They could not bear their Lord to disavow.
But He was dead, and they began to wonder
If they had spent the past three years in vain,
For they had seen the blood and heard the thunder
Of “Crucify Him!” and “Release the son of Cain!”
To trade the Perfect Man for vile Barabbas
Confounded justice to its very core.
What evil had He done that He should die thus?
What were His deeds that we should so abhor?
Yet worse by far was Judas’ treason
For with the Lord his life was intertwined.
He walked with them but for a season
Till envious greed consumed his peace of mind.
In shock, the twelve were left to wait and ponder
The path that led them to this woeful night.
Was there a reason or did they just wander?
As darkness fell, they longed for morning’s light.
Copyright © 2014 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Holy Saturday is a time of waiting, a time of reflection upon the sin that nailed Jesus to the cross. Lent has brought us to this climax of horror at our sin, of sorrow that death is its reward, and of recognition that we were Cain and Barabbas but yet the perfect Son of God was the One who died.
If this poem feels disjointed and incomplete to you, then it has done its job. Anyone who has endured a major loss will understand those early responses in which deep pain circles back on numbness, in which the mind runs rampant with memories but cannot produce coherent a single coherent thought. This is where the disciples were on that Saturday that followed Good Friday.
But the last two words pull the poem up before it crashes completely. For no matter how dark the night, we have every reason to hope, just as the disciples did. The hope may be as dim as the promise of morning’s light, but it is real nonetheless.
Angliverse 