How Hard It Is

Jesus looked around and said to his disciples,
“How hard it is for those who have wealth
to enter the kingdom of God!”
The disciples were amazed at his words.
So Jesus again said to them in reply,
“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!
It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle
than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
They were exceedingly astonished and said among themselves,
“Then who can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and said,
“For human beings it is impossible, but not for God.
All things are possible for God.”
—Mark 10:17-27

How hard it is to enter in God's kingdom:
Sell all you have and bid your world goodbye.
So camels thread the slim eye of the needle
before the rich can claim a place on high.
But heaven calls, and only this is needful:
to give your all and follow after Christ.

What is the price your savior now is asking?
You gold and gems, your lavish gifts displayed?
No, but your heart poured out in prayer and action:
This is the gift your offer day by day.
Not faith alone or keeping each commandment,
but love itself: This is the narrow way.

For gold will dim, and silver coins will tarnish.
All swords will rust except God's holy word—
a living edge that parts the joints and marrow
to lay us bare before the eye of God.
So whittled down, we pass with room to spare then:
The needle grows; the narrow gate is broad.

And all we've lost, and all we've gladly given
shall be restored in Spirit and in truth.
All we forgave as we have been forgiven—
that mercy shown our own hearts will renew,
will heal our eyes that we may share the vision
of God's great love, while Christ makes all things new.

About The Rich, O discontented mancan ever be rich. The golden calfnever grows into acow that gives milk. The devil comes to the wedding when•-;ople marry for money. God has never made gold enough tomake a selfish man rich. On Gods scales a poor mans best and« rich mans best balance each other. Some people will sell their souls verycheap for the prospect of quick payment. Success in this world often means fail-ure in the next. What do you suppose angels think ofthe man who is doing his best to die rich? We are not in a condition to enjoyriches until we can be happy withoutthem. They know in heaven how much relig-ion the rich have by the way they treatthe poor. It is seldom that a man ever gets to bewise enough to know what to do with alarge fortune- IBy Frank Beard – https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/14597788930/Source book page: https://archive.org/stream/blastsfromramsho00unse/blastsfromramsho00unse#page/n19/mode/1up, No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44080771

Psalm 139: Too Great For Me

Based on Psalm 139:

You saw me in the darkness
within my mother's womb;
in every hope and heartache
I have been known to you.
I flee you and I fight you;
I turn from you in shame,
but I cannot deny you,
and still you call my name.

In rising and in sinking,
in falling, there to lie,
all that I long have hidden
is here before your eye.
My secrets and my shadows
to you are bright as day,
and all I long to ask you,
you know before I say.

When I would shrink in terror
there's courage that you give,
who know me in my failure—
You know, and you forgive.
And still you call, O Father;
beside me still you stand.
Too great for me, this knowledge,
that I am in your hand.

More details

Coro alto, Sé de Braga Portugal. Photo By Joseolgon – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=72225140

Bone of Our Bones

So the LORD God cast a deep sleep on the man,
and while he was asleep,
he took out one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh.
The LORD God then built up into a woman the rib
that he had taken from the man.
When he brought her to the man, the man said:
   “This one, at last, is bone of my bones
       and flesh of my flesh;
   this one shall be called ‘woman, ‘
       for out of ‘her man’ this one has been taken.”
That is why a man leaves his father and mother
and clings to his wife,
and the two of them become one flesh.
—Genesis 2:18-24

We come from the dust of the earth,
and back to the dust we shall go
as naked at death as at birth;
our hands shall be empty once more.

So Adam from Eden came forth
to live by the sweat of his brow,
to wrestle with thistle and thorn
until he was laid in the ground.

But, oh, not alone shall he lie,
nor Eve shall not lie there alone,
for sprung from them both came the Christ:
In him all their sorrows are known.

He came to be shaped of the dust
and born of his mother in blood,
to share all our striving with us
and go back again to the mud.

For he is the bone of our bones,
and he is the flesh of our flesh.
No more do we walk on unknown,
but he bears our life and our death

to open the eyes of our hearts
and raise us again to new life
as sinless as back at the start,
to make us forever his bride.

Adam and Eve depicted in a mural in Abreha wa Atsbeha Church, Ethiopia, Photo By Bernard Gagnon – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27934949

Warp and Weft

And at your name all knees will bend,
all heads will bow to bear your yoke.
O, lay it gently on us then!
Your mercy, Lord, is all my hope,

for all you trusted to my hands,
the blessings on my head you poured,
my hans have twisted from their ends,
my thoughts have beaten into swords.

So when your judgment comes, O Christ,
how will you reckon all I've done,
the broken endings I have spliced
to all the graces you had spun?

Still bend my shoulders to your yoke
as you bent yours to humankind's:
So you restore the things I broke 
and pour again your new-made wine.

Still reach your hands out right and left:
No weaver, but a carpenter,
when you stretch out the warp and weft
my crooked ways run straight and sure,

for in your work my work is good.
Your wounded hands hold all my ends
and turn them as I never could
'til swords are plowshares once again.

Weaver, Nearer an Open Windows By Vincent van Gogh – Copied from an art book, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9108043

Broken World

Riffing on Psalm 46:

The waters rage and riot;
their rampage fills the sky,
and all we know of quiet
is but the cyclone's eye.
The mountains quake in terror—
then how shall we not fear?
Our broken world's repairer,
why do you not draw near?

And if we have offended,
done evil in your sight,
oh, can it not be mended?
Can nothing be put right?
Remember, Lord, the deluge,
your promise to all things:
Come make for us a refuge
beneath your outspread wings.

Come fill our thirst and hunger;
lift up the lost and poor,
then work a greater wonder
and still the rage of war.
Our strength and our salvation,
our rescue in distress,
though mountain fall and nation,
draw near, draw near to us.

Thunderstorm near Pritzerbe (Germany) By Mathias Krumbholz – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26118676SONY DSC

More Than Prophets

At that time, John said to Jesus,
“Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name,
and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.”
Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him.
There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name
who can at the same time speak ill of me.
For whoever is not against us is for us.
Anyone who gives you a cup of water to drink
because you belong to Christ,
amen, I say to you, will surely not lose his reward.”
—Mark 9:38-43

Would that all God's own were prophets
burning with the Spirit's flame,
every son and every daughter
given courage to proclaim!
Yet a greater gift is offered,
first and last and all may claim:
Offering a cup of water
to the thirsty, in Christ's name.

All the good things we have treasured
we are given from God's hand;
all the joys of rest and pleasure,
all the gifts of sun and land.
None, though, can we hold forever,
having but to give again.
Breaking heaven's bread together:
We are more than prophets then.

We are mortal; we are sinful,
yet such gifts we have received,
how can we be else than gen'rous
with God's generosity?
Word of God, come dwell within us;
form and shape all we shall be.
Let the love that you have giv'n us
echo in our every deed.

Bernardo Strozzi – An act of mercy, giving drink to the thirsty- http://emuseum.ringling.org/emuseum/objects/18885/an-act-of-mercy-giving-drink-to-the-thirsty?ctx=554eb923-d6df-4234-82e9-e439b2d967fe&idx=1, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=66957640

Love

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, [love] is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
—1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Give me love's patience, Lord my God,
when mine is wearing thin,
and let it whisper in my heart 
that I have been forgiv'n,
and then love's kindness I will learn
and love's humility
when I have known you will not turn
your love away from me.

Give me the love that hopes all things
when fear says hope is gone,
that knows the Spirit spreads bright wings
o'er every coming dawn,
that bears all things and still believes
that we can be made new,
that can endure the world of griefs
and still rejoice in you.

Beyond all I desire or need,
far, far above all else,
this greatest mercy grant to me:
Give me your very self.
You are the source of all my hope;
you are the end thereof.
All other things are but to know
that you, O God, are love.

Christ Child in the Sacred Heart, Between 1475 and 1480, By Anonymous – https://www.nga.gov/content/ngaweb/Collection/art-object-page.3738.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=62473824

Matthew, the Tax Collector

As Jesus passed by,
he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post.
He said to him, “Follow me.”
And he got up and followed him.
While he was at table in his house,
many tax collectors and sinners came
and sat with Jesus and his disciples.
The Pharisees saw this and said to his disciples,
“Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”
He heard this and said,
“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do.
Go and learn the meaning of the words,
I desire mercy, not sacrifice.
I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

—Matthew 9:9-13

What could the prophet want of me?
I speak with Caesar's voice
and eat my meals with hands unclean
from counting out his coins.
But Jesus passed me at my post,
and that was all he said—
just “Follow me,” and I was lost,
and now he shares my bread.

The holy men who spit at me
are gathered at my door
to sneer and crane their necks to see
and judge the wine I pour,
but he has thanked me for the wine
and he has blessed my bread,
and for perhaps the only time
I finally am fed.

I wept to hear his voice in prayer—
I was forgiven then,
and I would follow anywhere
to taste this joy again.
So let the righteous turn away;
they have their sacrifice.
We who have eaten well today
have seen and known the Christ.

The Calling of Saint Matthew, 1599–1600, Caravaggio By Caravaggio – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219497

The Sparrows On the Rooftops

Jesus said to the Twelve:
“Fear no one.
Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed,
nor secret that will not be known.
What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light;
what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.
And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul;
rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy
both soul and body in Gehenna.
Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin?
Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge.
Even all the hairs of your head are counted.
So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Everyone who acknowledges me before others
I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father.
But whoever denies me before others,
I will deny before my heavenly Father.”
Matthew 10:26-33

The sparrows on the rooftops
or nesting in the eaves
sing out the grace their youth taught
from every gabled peak:
That God counts every feather
and sees them when they fall.
They fear no wind or weather
since heaven hears them call.

This is our song in sorrow,
when huddled in the eaves
and anxious for tomorrow:
that God our Father sees;
that all our hairs are counted
and all our hopes are known;
that love cannot be doubted
and mercy has not flown.

What we have wept in darkness
we sing out in the light,
that God holds every sparrow
in every moment's flight.
Though wind and war surround us,
we turn from dread and fear
to trust the God who counts us
and holds us ever near.

Alcalá de Henares By Draceane – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=116021850