Joseph Spring's Blog, page 2
January 10, 2021
Unmute
the choice to scrape for might
and gather this impov'rished heart
to find the will to write.
The year took all our breath away,
took measures from our time.
It stopped our voices, held our throats
and bruised our sense of rhyme.
While many sanguine shouts are praised
to spur us through this year,
we crave for more than vapid prompts,
for something true and clear.
And we can hold to greater hope
than January's slate:
a day that though we know not when,
will surely come with CHRIST and then
the hope that's certain, brought to sight
will be all ours, with no more night
and not a minute late.
And so we rise to face the work
for we should be remiss
if we were not to forward hope
from final day to this.
Now strengthen we our eyes and hearts
that through the darkest days
we yet will love and work and write
and give our Saviour praise.
September 14, 2020
Pebbles on a Mediterranean shore
Fizzing jetsam,
Glistening med,
Flotsam pebbles,
Skin sun-fed,
Breakfast dry,
Ice-cream time,
Climbing high:
View sublime!
Feeling small,
Walking fro.
Loving all
Mostly bro!
September 3, 2020
Rest
His work to buy his own, complete.
In peace and vic'try, end to end
He calls us now with naught to spend
to drink
and dine
and sing.
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash
August 13, 2020
Aseity 2
What can I do with a God so great?
Both of my languages falter and fail
I can't map him out, nor conjugate
to describe self-existence. Stripped of my tongue
I stumble on adjectives, things unachievable,
descriptions no creature has ever owned.
For all are from
the source independent, of glory unthievable,
whose name is I AM, rightly enthroned.
And I with my middling eyes going blind
take pandemic a burden with duty, a vast
and great omnipresence, a spacetime in mind;
I fail as a god. "O, help me to cast
off the babbling scurry, the Martha, to kneel
and dwell in your presence, my heart to be light
each day to firm know the sure hope that awaits.
O God, reveal
further knowledge of you and your powerful might
that works in the hills and saves my state."
For the valley between, full of shadows and blinds
is an bringer of Death to a mortal so small.
But the God of Aseity, scaled for mankind
yet holding Jupiter, walks with me all
through the chaos, and joyfully lays on a feast.
Days are no panic for him, no restraints,
for he is their maker: great comfort indeed!
And I the least
at this table surrounded by sinners made saints
will take in the bread and the wine, all I need.
It’s probably a good idea to read this poem too, which came before:
https://joespringwrites.com/2018/08/13/ode-to-the-spirit-of-aseity/
Thank you for reading. I’ll be glad for your comments.
June 18, 2020
Two boughs
“Come down from the branches,”
said the wise man to the tree
in which an angry skeptic sat,
who may as well be me.
At the bottom of the branches
two boughs began their twist,
and there, he said, you simply
make a claim, “Does God exist?”
Rake
Thirsty rake come slake your Summer
on yellow lawns laid thick with wine.
Fill with fall your hungry fingers
before the trees knock bare and dry.
May 16, 2020
What the night sky declares
If I peer
through the window from my sleepless back
and think far into the sky I
fear the sheer depth of space.
So in daylight I steer clear,
dwell here where the roof is low
and the world is small.
Space is severe, and well causes
men to revere God.
Don’t miss those few quiet words in Genesis,
“he also made the stars”: he also made
those raging storms of nuclear fire
yellow as a feather from a falling weaver
bright bursts of power and light larger than the giant’s giant,
filling the galaxies to more powers over,
with billions in the arsenal.
Twinkling overhead.
And thick dark matter we
name without grasping
living suspended as the stars
deep in the knowledge of the Son of God.
O glorious, inconvenient sky,
your vast expanse demands
no small part of me.
April 16, 2020
On the rock
Often I begin a poem that doesn’t get further than free writing, initial thoughts, or a few lines. Even so, the expressions and ideas are still worth sharing. The text below is from a poem that felt too skeletal and wasn’t working, so I removed the line breaks, edited a little, and made it into this short flowing thought.
You find yourself upon a rock, your sea legs countering waves which are not there. You are shaken, on unshakable ground. The sea rocks you, for the rock will not move; it is steadfast, unyielding. Your legs anticipate lurches which do not come. Though the waves knock on, they meet an Absolute, upon which you stand not drifting tumbling relative. What definite stance, desperate hands, slick feet held fast. Comfort, home, unexpected, sickening, Dizzy you cling. Waves would drag you, calling “Come back”. But the waves are no longer inside you.
April 14, 2020
Your rod and staff, they comfort me
holds a haunting whistle, low.
And dimly lit, diffused through haze
they make the shapes that shake one's gaze
and settle groundward eyes. The clouds
and fears creep dankly round and shroud
the valley heavy, ripe for rot -
if faced with fear, I hear him not.
Of course the evil lurks, but who
should fear it when God walks with you?
And faced with something real to fear
I press the psalter to my ear:
"Do not" he says, "Do not join in
with those whose trembling minds would spin
them down to dread of loss that looms,
and spread the stifling breath of gloom."
For all the worst that may befall,
the Lord himself does guard my soul.
Of course the evil lurks, but who
should fear it when God walks with you?
The pandemic and infodemic weighed heavily on me today. I took a break from trying to work, to meditate on Psalm 23:4.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4 (WEB)
I started to think on all the times we are reminded not to fear, and how the instruction is never given in the absence of a “fear stimulus”. God acknowledges that there is “something to fear”, and yet in that context he tells us not to fear. This doesn’t mean that we are immune from suffering, illness, loss or death. It positions fear as the antithesis of trust, both of which are responses to circumstances which seem to threaten the fulfilment of a promise. What has God promised? What circumstances will change our trust in him to do what he has said he will do? We must watch our hearts, and lead them to measure every fear against the sovereign plan of God, remembering that he is good, and that Christ will not lose us. Then, though we may suffer, we shall not lose faith and hope. Rather than falling to the stifling, paralysing zeitgeist, we lift our eyes to Jesus, our only hope in life and in death.
April 10, 2020
Les Miserables
Saturday was mis
Sunday he is riz
Or for a longer expression, read “Easter Saturday”: https://joespringwrites.com/2019/05/24/easter-saturday/