December 10, 2016
Even So
Our path meanders through a barren land
Where lowering clouds press in on every side,
With gales so swift that we can hardly stand,
Rain so pervasive that we cannot hide.
Then storms give way to scorching desert heat.
Now parched, we long for mists to calm our thirst
And seek a haven for our weary feet.
Yet though we journey through a land accursed
Despair is not our answer to this plight
For sure and certain hope steadies our gait.
Relentless gloom can never quench the Light.
Unyielding joy belies our sad estate
Because the Son of God who shared our pain
Will come again to heal our every bane.
Copyright © 2016 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
For Advent
October 6, 2015
Thy Son Liveth
Hot breath of famine dried the brook
That once had quenched Elijah’s thirst,
And so God sent him on to look
For one whose fate seemed doubly cursed.
A widow and her one beloved son,
With oil and meal barely enough for two,
Faced certain death, for hope and bread were gone.
One final supper ere they bid the world adieu.
But when the prophet came, the widow fed
Him with the first fruits of her scant repast.
And from that day, she never lacked of bread;
Her faith was blessed with food enough to last.
So when her child fell ill and met his doom,
She felt betrayed by all the prophet said
Until Elijah took him to an upper room,
Entreating God, who raised him from the dead.
Outside the gates of Nain a widow walked
In sad procession with her only son.
Her hopes lay dead, her footsteps balked,
To stay the moment when goodbyes were done.
Another widow’s Son noticed her there,
And in compassion bade her weeping cease,
He raised her son and lifted all her care,
Restored her child to live in perfect peace.
But soon this Son would in procession go
Outside the gate to die as though a thief.
This perfect Son offered Himself to bear our woe,
Dying and rising, He would end our grief.
Though evil may beset our souls with strife,
Though brooks dry up, and meal and oil decay,
Treasures of Living Water, Bread of Life,
Are spread for us in His new Eden day by day.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Scriptural context:
This poem does not need explanation, but at the risk of stating the obvious, I would point out that it begins in the wilderness and ends up in the new Eden. The lectionary reading about the widow of Nain has always spoken to my heart, but much more so since I lost my son James.
April 12, 2015
My Lord and My God
Apostle Thomas, faint of faith,
How did you hear about His wounded side?
Were you not one of those who ran away
When soldiers stormed the garden while He prayed?
You once had said that you would die with Him,
So were you there when He was crucified
To see the sword release the water and the blood?
When a rich man took His body from the cross,
And wrapped it carefully in swaddling cloths
That offered up the scent of bitter myrrh,
Did you assist them in the solemn task
Of carrying His lifeless form away
To place Him gently in the borrowed tomb?
Or did you hear the rumor that He had appeared
Behind closed doors to others whom He loved
And showed to them His wounded hands and side?
You missed so many opportunities to see
But soon regarded faith as slave to sight
Until His voice broke through your wall of doubt
And drew from you confession that did not require
Plunging your hand into His riven side.
Thomas, I am your twin when faith would ebb,
So I rejoice with you that all our doubts
Are answered by the patient voice of Love.
Copyright © 2015, 2020 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
John 11:16
John 19
John 20
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 8, 2015
Not My Will
A sudden dreadful Light pierced through the gloom,
And Saul’s unbridled pride fell to the ground.
He had set his face to cause the Church’s doom
Until he heard the stern, accusing sound:
“Saul, Saul, why have you persecuted Me?”
And from that day, Saul’s life was not his own;
Through myriad trials, his only choice would be
To do the will of Jesus Christ alone.
But soon another’s pride crashed to the dust
When in a vision of the brilliant Son
Ananias’ heart filled with distrust
To hear Saul’s persecuting days were done.
But believing Christ, he cast his fears away,
And two received their sight on that great day.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
For the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul (January 25), from the Gospel reading for that day: Acts 9:1-22.
February 28, 2015
A Sonnet of Tearful Hope
When we must leave, we grieve to say goodbye,
Or when we part with others who must go,
If tears flow not, we heave a weighty sigh
To think the miles between us now must grow.
But time and space and every vale or hill
That separates sincere companion souls
Cannot erode the love that binds them still
Nor take the hope that constantly consoles.
Yet hope would be in vain, except for trust
In Him whose tender love surrounds us all.
His life ennobles feeble forms of dust
And reunites them in his banquet hall
In Heaven, where there is an end to grieving;
For it is the place from whence there is no leaving.
Copyright © 2015 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This poem is dedicated to Bill and Kathy, and to all who have suffered great loss and yet cling to an even greater hope.
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.
July 7, 2013
Naaman the Blind
Respected man, much favored by his lord,
Fearless in battle, an expert with the sword.
Though skilled in war, one fight o’ercame his soul,
For pride had Naaman in its grim control.
It blinded him to God’s life-giving word
Delivered by the prophet he had heard.
A leper with the remedy supplied:
The Jordan? Why not a river clean and wide?
Ignoble water for a man of high esteem!
The prophet mocked his greatness, it would seem.
But with no other cure in sight, he deigned
To do as God had said, and health regained.
Now one more lesson Naaman had to learn:
That gifts of God cannot be bought or earned.
His leprous skin was clean; his pride was tamed,
No longer blind, God’s promises he claimed.
Thus baptized in the Jordan, like our Lord,
Through whose obedience we are restored.
Copyright © 2013 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This morning, the Old Testament reading was 2 Kings 5:1-14, which is the story of the healing of Naaman the leper. Apparently leprosy was not viewed the same in Syria as in Israel because it does not appear that Naaman was ostracized because of his condition. To the contrary, he was commander of the army of Syria and very highly regarded for his successes on the battlefield. Yet his pride in his success was his primary ailment. When given the opportunity to be free of leprosy, he balked at the humble nature of the cure. He wanted Elisha to make a big production, to wave his hands, say noble and compelling words, and order God to cure Naaman. What a disappointment to this great man to be told to do something so humiliating as bathe in God’s dirty stream. If there was to be no grand, theatrical production, why could it not at least be a beautiful, clean river in his own country? His anger revealed his blindness, caused by pride in his own accomplishments. It took his servants, who had no aspirations to greatness, to teach him that he needed to obey God, regardless of the ignominy.
But even after humbling himself enough to take a chance that the dirty waters could make him clean, Naaman still didn’t fully understand the nature of God’s grace. He tried to pay Elisha for the cure. God had done something for him, and he would settle the debt and be back on equal footing, perhaps. But the prophet wisely refused any payment. How could we ever hope to repay God? We owe Christ our service out of gratitude, not out of any notion that we can repay a debt. And thanks be to God, Naaman finally saw exactly what was required: obedience in all things that were within his power to do.
I could not leave Naaman’s story without pointing us to the Christ, the perfectly obedient Son. He humbled himself to be baptized in the Jordan, not to be cleansed but to cleanse the water and open the way for us to be healed from all our afflictions. He took on our shame so that we might be set free from sin and shame.
Glory be to thee, O Lord!
June 5, 2013
A Sonnet of Sweat
Our father Adam tilled the stony ground;
In chains of sin and grief he stumbled, bound.
Anointed by the sweat of his own face,
His efforts could not merit God’s free grace.
In linen garments that prevented sweat,
The Levite servants never could forget
Their labor could not pay the price of sin,
But pointed to the One who can save men.
Our Saviour, deep in prayer, sweat drops of blood.
In anguish He endured the wrathful flood,
Though never disobedient, He became
The price of sin to wash away our shame.
And when His work was finished, He proclaimed
Salvation to all men who trust His name.
Copyright © 2013 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
Recently I became interested in the parallel between the pronouncement on Adam that he would earn his living through the sweat of his brow and the account of Jesus in the Garden sweating great drops of blood. The title of the poem is not glamorous, but neither is sin. There is such profound grace to be found in the words of St. Paul to the Ephesians: “Not of works, lest any man should boast.” (Eph. 2:9)
May we always glory in the Cross, for there is no glory in our own frail frame.
I started this about a week ago and completed it this morning, 5 June 2013.
April 7, 2013
A Soldier’s Song
The wargs are fierce tonight.
So painful is their noxious bite
That as they rip the tender flesh
Their hapless victims scream and thresh.
The orcs and trolls cause terror as they chase
Their prey and pound them with a lethal mace.
Such dreadful enemies pursue my soul
And would with fear of doom my days control.
But when I closely listen for the sound
Arising from the Valur army gathered round
In bright array to guard me from the horde,
My breathing calms and I advance toward
The gates of Rivendell, where I find peace.
For in that homely house all worries cease.
Copyright © 2013, 2022 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
One of my favorite Old Testament passages is II Kings 6:8-23. It’s all about the ability to discern what is hidden from the human sight. Elisha’s servant awakens to find the city surrounded by the Syrian army. He panics, thinking there is no hope. But Elisha responds, “Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them” (II Kings 6:16). What a curious thing to say! The servant, as yet, had not seen the supporting army to which Elisha referred. So Elisha prayed that the servant’s eyes would be opened: “And behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.” The frail Syrian army would be no match for God’s unconquerable hosts.
During Eastertide as we reflect on all that the glorious resurrection of Jesus Christ has won for us, we cannot afford to forget all of the fury that the defeated Satan has unleashed upon the Lord’s followers. We read in the final chapters of St. John’s Gospel how Jesus tried to prepare His disciples for it, but they were not ready for the savagery of the opposition. Neither are we, especially since we cannot see the true nature of our foes. We cannot afford to take spiritual warfare lightly.
We also cannot afford to take lightly the role of the Church in our survival, and for it I have used Rivendell as a metaphor. I’m not sure that was Tolkien’s intention, but I don’t think he would mind terribly, just as he would not be too out of sorts for my using the Valur in reference to the angel armies that surround God’s people with protection.
I commend the remedies offered by St. Paul in Ephesians for ordering our lives in such a way as to avoid destruction. Especially the following verses should be called to mind often:
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. (Ephesians 6:10-13)
And never forget that you are not alone. The same army that surrounded Elisha stands ready to do God’s bidding. There is great hope and peace in knowing that those who are with us are more than those who are with our foes, not only more in numbers but in strength. When darkness threatens, may God let us glimpse His army.
Angliverse 