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)
May 28, 2013
Peace Meal
Piecemeal the plan unfolded from creation to the Cross:
Through Abraham and Moses sacrifices showed the cost.
Then David served as king, anticipating Jesus’ reign,
But kings who followed spoiled the sacred, making it profane.
And time and time again the prophets preached the truth of God
To those who spoke of justice but whose hearts were hiding fraud.
Then the worst, the years of silence with no prophet, priest or king;
No word from God to kindle hope, though darkness loomed foreboding.
Until an angel broke the silence to proclaim Immanuel
In whom all offices were gathered in one Man to dwell:
The Word of God and Prophet bold, who was the Truth and Way,
To pierce the darkness, He was Light and brought us endless day.
As God with man, the Son of Man, both Sacrifice and Priest,
King David’s greater Son whose righteousness will never cease.
He lived and died and lives again, His people’s wounds to heal.
And now enthroned, He is the Host who serves the great Peace Meal.
Copyright © 2013 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This is another sweeping summary of the story of redemption. The underlying concept is that only in Christ is found all three offices: Prophet, Priest, and King. Only in Him are all the pieces and threads brought together in a perfect whole.
A couple of weeks ago I was giving a devotional about the Eucharist at choir practice, and I called it the Peace Meal. In the back of my head, the homonym “piecemeal” started rattling around, and this poem is the result.
February 8, 2013
For Ash Wednesday
The stately cedar trees bow down their heads in woe
And shudder sadly as the savage wind swoops down,
Rearranging ghostly garments made of snow,
While all around stand trees with scrawny limbs of brown.
Thus winter-deep in grief, the trees remember days
When wild petunias danced and curtsied at their feet
And honeysuckle draped them all in blooms of maize
That drenched the evening with their perfume sweet—
Days when vibrant bluebirds pirouetted in the sun
While sparrows drank the lees from last night’s shower.
The blooms are now mere memory; the birds are gone.
Rain hardens into ice; the sun has lost its power.
But with relentless hope, the evergreens remain
As witness that the buried seed will soon arise.
For just as spring shall put an end to winter’s reign,
Ash Wednesday fades amid the Easter victory cries.
Copyright © 2013 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
This piece is written in the same vein as “Autumn Grief” and “Until Hope Ends.” All of them draw pictures from the natural order in an attempt to hint at deeper spiritual truths. This piece contains more personification than I normally use, but it seems fitting here. The finished work of Easter benefits the earth, not only mankind. Something in me wants to think that God’s whole creation anticipates the day of deliverance, and that may not be too far fetched:
The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope, Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body. (Romans 8:16-23)
That is perhaps the best passage to keep in mind during the very disciplined days of Lent.
I’ve had the concept of relentless hope in my head for several weeks, but I didn’t get anything on paper until 21 January. The word “relentless” seems to have has negative connotations under normal circumstances, so I felt that it also needed to be redeemed. There is something to be said for having unrelenting hope, love, and faith.
January 11, 2013
All for the Bride
He lay down with a stone under his head
And in his sleep to heaven’s gate was led.
Then Jacob traveled east to Laban’s land.
Arriving there, he met the shepherd band.
He saw sweet Rachel leading thirsty sheep;
Her gentle beauty caused his heart to leap.
The shepherds would have waited for the rest,
But Jacob saw the purpose of his quest.
So by himself he rolled away the stone,
Securing her whom he would call his own.
He freed life-giving water for the herd
And won a bride by honoring his word.
Another stone was rolled away that day
When Jesus proved He was not Satan’s prey.
Now on Christ’s Bride all blessings He bestows,
And for the Shepherd’s flock pure water flows.
His tomb appeared deserted, but it served
To swallow up the death that we deserved.
Copyright © 2013 by Teresa Roberts Johnson (All rights reserved)
The resource for the first two stanzas is Genesis 29, with parallels drawn to the Gospel accounts of the the Lord and His Resurrection. The significance for the First Sunday after the Epiphany is the willingness of Rachel to be about the business of her family, and the parallels between Jacob and Jesus as the bride’s champion.
Started on 1 January 2013 with this idea: “His tomb was empty only for a while, for it has swallowed up our death.” As I began to research the idea of rolling away a stone, I was both amazed and pleased to find another story of a stone being rolled away.
Angliverse 