God is love
(Easter 5 John 15:1-8, 1 John 4:7-21)
All people who use language
are second-hand word-mongers:
we mangle words or varnish
by buying into meanings
to suit rival agendas.
We fumble in our juggling,
and truth becomes entangled
with hurts to which we’re subject,
and what one hears, another
would never have imagined.
So “God is love” gets twisted
for some who hear “Our Father”.
They might have had a parent,
unreasonably controlling,
whose harshness warps the nature
of their resistant children.
Then “God” and “love” seem hollow,
and protest shapes a cynic
whose love is sparse and godless.
Yet “God is love” is speaking
of wisdom sourced in wonder
at what we see in Jesus –
a God more than Creator,
a wise and gracious parent:
compassionate and caring
for all that is becoming,
forgiving finite creatures
their limited awareness,
their fear for their survival
that warps their best intentions.
When we abide in Jesus,
it helps refine our loving.
Our “me-first” competition
for limited resources
transforms into the service
we base on his example.
We give from our abundance,
so grateful for receiving,
and sometimes try to offer
self-sacrificial caring
not just to those we value,
but enemies and strangers.
When Jesus speaks of pruning,
it’s not an angry stripping,
but shaping for our fruiting
with stronger upright branches
that show the vine’s true nature.
What falls away enhances
resilience and balance.
Since God is love, and Jesus
embodies what such love is,
when they abide within us
our love will bear their image.
Barbara Messner 27/04/2021
Warning: Sheep Astray
Warning: Sheep Astray
Easter 4; Psalm 23
Good shepherd, there is much we seem to lack,
though having much has blurred the truth of need.
If you could lead us weary creatures back,
green pastures and still pools might soothe and feed.
Our souls are parched, our bodies over fed;
right pathways now have given way to roads.
We seek refreshment, yet will not be led;
your rod and staff seem long discarded goads.
Death’s shadow is a warning we ignore;
fear unacknowledged spurs some frantic craze.
You spread a table: we go out the door;
our cups intoxicate, our senses glaze.
Your loving-kindness still invites us home,
but we think freedom means the right to roam.
Barbara Messner 17/04/2024
A Greeting of Peace
A Greeting of Peace
Easter 3; Luke 24:36b-48; Acts 3:12-20; Psalm 4
He stood among them, offered them his peace.
Amazed and doubting, they were terrified:
they thought they saw the ghost of one who’d died.
How did he help their fear and doubt to cease?
He chose to let them see his damaged flesh;
he showed the wounds in hands and feet and side.
He ate some food with them, and opened wide
their minds to understand his Word afresh.
How can we find the peace he offers here?
Our wounds reach out to his, feel he’s alive.
Communion shares the food that helps faith thrive,
and opening to Scripture calms our fear.
Communing with our hearts brings us release;
times of refreshment come; we sleep in peace.
Barbara Messner 12/04/2024
Thomas and Us
Thomas and Us
Easter 2; John 20:19-31
The label “doubting” dogged him down the years –
it’s more than any saint should have to bear.
Did “doubting” Thomas add that shame to tears,
so grief and anger barred his need to share?
The risen Christ has no respect for locks,
nor will defensive doubt turn him away.
He lets his wounds be seen,to shift what blocks
our eyes from recognizing his new day.
Like Thomas, we find grace; and so we kneel,
and cry “My Lord and God!”; and breathe in peace.
Then his embrace will heal the pain we feel;
we breathe his Spirit, let our doubts release.
His wounds have touched our own and set us free;
we know new life, become what we can be.
Barbara Messner 3/04/2024
Palm Sunday Paradox
Palm Sunday Paradox
Palm Sunday; Mark 11:1-11
They wanted a victor to take power and reign –
his crown would be thorns on a victim in pain.
The man on a donkey, foretold as a king,
rode humbly despite the hosannas they sing.
They’d gathered some converts to bolster their cause;
his teaching forgotten in shouts and applause.
Yet how many times had he said, “First is last;
my kingship is service, not power of the past.”
Their shouts turned to anger: “He thinks he’s God’s fool!
He overturns tables and not Roman rule!
He gathers no army of angels to fight!
What use is he dying in such desperate plight?”
So how do we claim him, as fool or as king?
Does he choose a donkey while we praise and sing?
As we seek more converts to prop up our dreams,
he bleeds on our carpet and upturns our schemes.
Not many accept that God’s vulnerable here:
when power is surrendered, the kingdom draws near,
and those who have had to let go see the king.
Their silence and wonder transform what they sing.
Barbara Messner March 2018
Jesus lifted Up Draws Us to Himself
Jesus Lifted Up Draws Us to Himself
Lent 5; John 12:20-33
The crowd had thought his glory would be power.
He chose to ride a donkey as foretold,
but though they shouted: "Blessings on the King!"
he knew their expectations soon would sour.
But when some Greeks were drawn to seek him out,
he saw it as a sign his hour had come,
and though he spoke of glory, he described
how buried seed would have to die to sprout.
Through Spirit-led disciples, word would flow
beyond the bounds of culture and of race,
but still his soul was troubled. Could he pray
to God to save him? He decided: "No!"
He must be lifted up so we are drawn
through death to life and new creation's dawn.
So as we face this Easter, do we fear
the many threats of death that plague our world,
while expectations of the ones who lead
are dashed, and tawdry glories disappear?
Where all are subject to pandemic's blight,
and all must own the threat of climate change,
we might regard all living things as kin,
and so lift up fresh wisdom into sight.
Believing that through death new life can rise,
we might accept the troubling of our souls
and face the harsh necessities of loss,
encouraged by the hope of some surprise
that bursts beyond the bounds of what we know,
as seeds long lost in dust with floods can grow.
Barbara Messner 2021 (no new poem due to covid)
God So Loves the World
God So Loves the World
Lent 4; John 3:14-21; Numbers 21:4-9
Though God so loves the world
the worldly make self god.
They do not prize the gift
the Son is meant to be.
What serves their purposes
is all that they can see.
What value put on love
that's offered to all free?
Though God so loves the world
the greedy make wealth god.
Where's profit in the gift
of one who comes to serve?
Their riches are not shared;
they keep them in reserve.
Accumulating more -
is that what they deserve?
Though God so loves the world
the leaders make power god.
They cause another's pain
to show that they are boss.
They elevate God's Son
upon a mocking cross
to prove that they are strong,
and wash their hands of loss.
But God who sent the Son
does not condemn the world.
Instead of striking us
Christ lives our death and pain.
The poisoned fangs we fear
are spread as we complain.
Look up and see the cross!
The world can live again!
Barbara Messner 7/03/2024
The Cleansing
The Cleansing
Lent 3, John 2:13-22, Luke 12:32
If he came to our churches on Sunday
to be awkwardly greeted as stranger
would he fashion a whip for our cleansing
would we cringe from his anger as danger?
Would he drive out conservative? liberal?
or upend those who balance on fences?
What offence might he take, at what practice?
Would he shake up our pews or our senses?
Would he tear up my poems and sermons,
say, "You fiddle while so much is burning!"?
Would he throw out projectors or prayer books,
call for change or a zealous returning?
No, I hope he would gather us round him,
knowing how we are raw and confounded,
how we're shaken and cast down by failure,
how we fear that our death knell is sounded.
He will say, "Little flock, don't be fearful,
for the kingdom will keep coming nearer,
and your efforts and gifts won't be wasted:
what you lose is renewed and made clearer.
For the pattern of Easter is central:
out of death comes abundance of living;
that's the secret of all new creating.
Nothing's lost from our loving and giving.
See my body in people not buildings!
Know I'm with you in doubts and believing!
Stir up zeal for compassion and justice!
Learn to listen and wait for receiving!
So my brothers and sisters, keep hoping!
Seek the way and the truth, open-hearted,
and be ready for future unfolding!
I am in you: we cannot be parted!"
Barbara Messner 3/03/21
God Laughs, Weeps and Loves
God Laughs, Weeps and Loves
Lent 2; Genesis 17:1-17, Mark 8:31-38
One theological truth I affirm:
God has a sense of humour
and we are made in that image too.
Bless the Lord who laughs, weeps and loves.
God made Abraham a solemn promise
and adjusted his name to mean
"father of a multitude", so Abraham
fell on his face and laughed,
for he was ninety-nine and not virile.
God had the last laugh (at least in English)
adding "ha" to "Abram", and God said
their son would be "Isaac", meaning
"May God laugh in delight!"
Sarai became Sarah, and "I" was lost to "ah!"
She would have cried a long "ah" in childbirth,
being old and stiff. Oh she laughed,
overhearing the promise:
perhaps in the scant hope of pleasure,
or mocking the men for their dreaming.
Jesus named his offsider "Peter", meaning "rock",
rock to build a church on, but maybe also "rocky",
as in denial in the courtyard of hierarchy.
Insightful Peter named Jesus Messiah;
fallible Peter was rebuked as Satan
for tempting his friend once more
with the lure of safety, fame and power
in place of a cross outside the walls.
Jesus would have sighed, laughed, and forgiven
Peter's rockiness, but Peter's inheritors
often chose safety, fame and power
in place of cross and resurrection.
In prayer on mountain tops,
looking out at flawed beauty,
and on the plains, suffering our failures,
Jesus and God laugh, weep and love.
Though our choices endanger the world,
we are not yet too old for new birth.
Barbara Messner 22/02/2024
The Time is Fulfilled
The Time is Fulfilled
Lent 1; Mark 1:9-15
When we rise in urgent need
seeking sun and air,
from the depths enclosing us
like a womb or tomb,
heavens open; gracious life
swoops to meet us there,
naming us as family,
with the world our room.
Something divine will alight on us,
something human finds wings,
something is heard that delights in us,
something gives voice and sings.
When we wander, overwhelmed,
dazed by sun and air,
driven out to wilderness
where temptations loom,
though the dryness desiccates
hope into despair,
there's a word that calls us out
to face down that doom.
Something corrupting entices us,
something steadfast holds true,
something authentic finds words in us,
something that's timeless and new.
So the kingdom comes to us,
near as sun and air,
when we open arms to it,
and provide it room.
If we let the silence grow
'til it strips us bare,
animals and angels come,
and strange flowers bloom.
Something within us enlightens us,
something changing us leads,
something allures us in mystery,
something that reaches our needs.
Barbara Messner 17/02/2018