Strange Grace

Amid the noise and violence,

I can't be heard

above the shriek of sirens

that fills the world.

O Spirit, groan in silence

too deep for words.



Beneath my ceaseless worry,

beneath my fear,

be there in all your working;

be ever near

with hope, through all my searching,

that God will hear,



that when I can say nothing,

cannot cry out,

this shadow is your hov'ring

above my doubt.

You wings my heart are cov'ring

in silent hours.



Then all who sit in darkness,

who dwell in shade,

are gathered in your starkness,

in your strange grace,

while you plead hopeless causes

before God's face.

Fog shadow of the south tower of the Golden Gate Bridge By Brocken Inaglory – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2088053

Phos Hilaron

First half based on this text; second half is all Advent:

O gladsome light of God on high

and glory of eternity,

O heaven's holiness most bright,

Christ shining down on all we see,



we come now to the end of days,

the glow of evening fading fast.

In growing shadow still we praise

the Father, Son, and Spirit Blest.



Whether in darkness or at dawn,

still do we raise unwearied voice

in praise of you, our shining sun,

in whom we glory and rejoice.



Still do we hold the hope of sight,

whether at morn or midnight deep,

of you who shine forever bright,

whether we wake or deathly sleep.



Dwelling in shadow of our doom,

waiting beneath the dark'ning skies,

still do we know that day comes soon.

Yet will the sun of justice rise.



Light of the world, world's only light,

whether we see your face or not,

give us the hope that dawn shines bright,

strength to yet praise your glory, God.  Amen.

A flock of Red-winged Blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) flying into the sunset. Taken at Quivira National Wildlife Refuge in Kansas. By Jerry Segraves (en:User:Jsegraves99) – http://www.fhwa.dot.gov/byways/photos/64091, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=733208

Testify To the Light

A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He was not the light,
but came to testify to the light.
John 1:6-8

There is a light that never dims,

no matter what we see,

and all the blinded wait for him

to set the captives free.



There is a light that we mistake—

more bright than flame or sun—

until we see the morning break

and know the glorious one.



Come, prophets, see what we cannot,

for we can only guess

the way marked for us in the dark

across this wilderness.



Come take our hands and lead the way

around pitfalls and stones

until he makes a level plain

to bear an easy road.



Or—yes—until we see it clear,

for then it shall be smooth.

When that great light is drawing near,

this wilderness will bloom.



And all the mountains bow to him,

and all the valleys rise,

the lame leap up and run to him

when morning greets our eyes.

Observing a sunrise on the National Elk Refuge is truly a memorable experience. Photo: Kari Cieszkiewicz/USFWS Scenes from the National Elk Refuge By USFWS Mountain-Prairie – A Frosty Morning, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=110781726

Comfort

Comfort, give comfort to my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her
that her service is at an end,
her guilt is expiated;
indeed, she has received from the hand of the LORD
double for all her sins.
A voice cries out:
In the desert prepare the way of the LORD!
Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!
Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill shall be made low;
the rugged land shall be made a plain,
the rough country, a broad valley.
Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together;
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.
Isaiah 40:1-5

We dwell within a shadow here

beneath the wings of death

and feel it ever drawing near,

as close as every breath.



Yet do we hear a voice cry out,

“Take comfort, says your God!”

Come, then, into this fear and doubt;

give comfort to our hearts.



For we have seen the mountains fall

and crumble to the dust,

and wondered if you hear us call,

if you will come to us.



We've seen the valleys quake and split

and thrust into the sky.

And does it move you where you sit?

And do you hear us cry?



Then why do you stay so far off?

Why do you stand apart,

not tear the heavens with the earth

and come to us, O God?



But see! A light begins to pierce

the cloud that covers us.

And can it be that hope draws near,

that comfort comes to us?

The Creation of Light by Gustave Doré – Bible by Doré, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=298147

Road

Lord, let my soul be in your hands
that hold the caverns of the earth,
that cradle seas and skies and lands.
Oh, cradle me as I go forth.

The road I'm on is dark and long
and leads me through the shadow vale—
but still a line across your palm.
Oh, bring me where the shadows pale.

I stumble, Lord.  I fail and fall.
I lie down on the ground and weep.
Give strength to get up after all,
grace deeper than despair is deep.

And mercy, Lord, above all else,
beyond forgiveness' settled debts.
Not for my sins, but for myself, 
grant mercy's ever gentle breath.

That when this road has found its end
beyond all valleys, flats, and peaks,
I may be still within your hand,
found there before the face I seek.

U.S. Route 95 in Churchill County, Nevada, is an example of a typical two-lane, bi-directional road found throughout the rural areas of the United States that are designed for light traffic. By Famartin – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39452786

Nothing Left

Today we renew the hope in eternal life, truly founded on Christ’s death and Resurrection. “I am risen and I am with you always”, the Lord tells us, and my hand supports you. Wherever you may fall, you will fall into my hands and I will be there even to the gates of death. Where no one can accompany you any longer and where you can take nothing with you, there I will wait for you to transform for you the darkness into light.
Benedict XVI, Angelus 11/2/2008

When there's nothing left but ending,
when your feet run out of road,
when there's nowhere but descending,
Christ is there before you go.

Where there's nothing you take with you,
empty handed in the dark,
hope is just a dying glimmer:
Christ is there to strike the spark.

He is waiting, Word eternal,
where the weeping make no sound,
so come all you heavy burdened:
Let your weary soul sink down.

Let the earth receive your grieving;
let it soak into the sands.
Deeper far than all believing,
there youa re within his hands.

There he cradles you in sorrow;
there he holds you to his breast.
Though you rise with him tomorrow,
yet for now you shall have rest.

Lay your burden down in darkness;
let the seed fall to the soil.
Sleep must come before the harvest;
you shall share the feast of joy.

Jakub Schikaneder – All Souls’ Day – Ophelia2, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12453561

Crumbs

You came to heal a broken world,
and broken you've become.
I come before you begging, Lord,
to share in mercy's crumbs:
Give me the hope I'm longing for,
though healing never comes.

My God, how foolish, but how bold—
you didn't count the cost
but left the ninety-nine in fold
and set out for the lost.
At least you're with me in the cold,
though all the gates are locked.

So here we sit outside the doors
like beggars at the feast
that others all go streaming towards
while we are left in grief.
Yes, I believe—you know it, Lord—
but help my unbelief.

And while the guests all eat their fill,
you bless and break these crumbs
as I pray for a miracle
I know will never come.
O Shepherd, give me courage still
to say, Your will be done.

Woman baking bread (circa 2200 BC); Louvre By Rama, CC BY-SA 3.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69938567

Not Eden

Each night we dream of Eden
and drench our beds with tears
until dawn burgeons eastward
and morning rises clear.

Those dreams are fit for nighttime,
for we have never seen
a home but this, our exile,
where harps hang on the trees.

For this, too, is a garden,
each year by sweat renewed
until the day of harvest 
when God shall make it new.

No more the fruit of knowledge, 
but apples sweet and red
and wine and rushing water
and every bite of bread.

The harps hung on the aspens
no songs of Eden play
but notes that leave us gasping
when breeze-led branches sway.

And Christ, who walked the furrows,
shall gather in all these
and in his lasting morrow
shall make of this his feast.

Late summer dawn over the Mojave Desert, California By Jessie Eastland – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=64756573

Dare

The clouds hang darkly overhead,
but rain is more than I can hope.
Long days the gaping ground has pled,
but heaven's only word is “no.”

And so this aching thirst remains;
dry tinder dreads the spark of hope,
for who will quench the rav'ning flames,
and what is left when ash has flown?

Unless there are such things as seas
and rivers ever onward run,
but deserts dare not oceans dream
when they must meet the morning sun.

Until some spark should split the sky,
'til mercy plummets from the clouds
and thund'ring angels “Holy!” cry
and heaven pours its graces out.

Let me remember this, O God:
That mercy always pours again
upon my troubled, tinder heart;
that I may dare to dream of rain.

Raindrops falling on water Here comes rain again By Juni from Kyoto, Japan – Flickr, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=356231

When

When my eyes are dim with weeping
and my heart is drowned in tears
for the record I am keeping
of the locust-eaten years,
when I wonder if you're sleeping
while I'm crying out my fears,
let your kindly light coem creeping
and your mercy find me here.

When I can't hear any answers
to the questions that I pray,
when I can't see any pattern
to the chaos of my days,
give me ears to hear the laughter
of your living spring at play;
give me eyes to see the manna
you have scattered in my way.

Though the dreams that I have wanted
may be always out of reach
and the heart I try to soften
may be granite underneath,
though the road that we are walking
leads us straight to Calvary,
let me trust that it runs onward
and that you still walk with me.

Hortus sanitatis, Mainz 1491. Woodcut showing manna By Unknown author – Hortus Sanitatis. Mainz, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=82935525